Evil Kingdoms
by Piko-Len-10
Summary: A fic based on the Seven Deadly Sins song series by mothy. Rated 'T' for safety.
1. oo1 Moonlit Bear

_~ Evil Kingdoms ~_

-oo1

**Moonlit _Bear_**

_"No! No! A-Adam, she-she's not breathing-! Adam!"_

_"Eve, please-"_

_"No! Adam, make her wake up! Wake her up, Adam! **Please**!"_

_"Eve...I...I can't..."_

_"WHY! Why, Adam!"_

_"She...our baby is dead, Eve."_

000

Adam and Eve Moonlit lived together in a humble house, a simple structure little more then a country-side cottage, with a messily constructed wooden roof and a cobble-stone chimney puffing out clouds of stony grey smoke. Around their humble abode grew a dense forest with trees of thick, round trunks and an unbroken canopy of liquid green leaves. When the sun shone, the canopy was like a vast ocean of green fire-flies, gleaming and glittering like polished jades; at night, however, it was dark and ominous and oppressing, pressing down against the forest like a heavy, black weight.

They did not mind, though. Despite the darkness and the dangerous creatures that lurked beyond the watery light of their candles, Adam and Eve were happy. A home isolated from the every day hussle and bussle of city life was exactly what they had always dreamed; a little place surrounded by nature. A little place where no one would ridicule Adam for his brilliant blue hair and his obsession with roses of the same, ocean-blue shade; a little place where no men would stare lustfully at Eve's sparkling turquoise eyes, or her flowing teal hair, or her curving hips.

A little place they could live in peace.

000

_It's getting dark._

Eve hadn't noticed whilst bent head over heels, her nose buried in the ruby red petals of a blooming rose, but the sky was rapidly darkening. The canopy of leaves and flowers that looked so beautiful, so majestic, during the day was suddenly very frightening, a roof of grim black branches twisted grotesquely across the purple sky.

Eve bit her pale pink lip as she gathered her skirts in her hands and started rather frantically towards home, her booted feet clapping loudly against the dirt path, worn into the earth after years of abuse from travellers' feet. She tried and failed to contain the nauseating fear that was building in her stomach, and her pace quickened, her teal twin-tails flapping out behind her, her dress and traveller cloak whispering with her hurried movements.

_Oh, why had I not paid attention? Adam will be so worried! Bears come out during the night, and I'm unarmed! Not that I know how to fight...Oh, I'm so-_

A glint of crimson-red caught her eye, and Eve stumbled to a stop, shocked by the sudden flash of colour, and she turned, curiously, cautiously; holding her hands at chest level.

Her turquoise eyes widened.

Sitting at the base of a great, ancient tree were a pair of beautiful red fruits, sparkling like gems in the silvery glow of the moon's light, washing in through a rare break in the canopy above. They were apples, and they were leaning against each other, almost as though seeking comfort from the other's presence.

Eve stared, shell-shocked, for a few fleeting moments; and then her face broke out in a huge, joyful grin of pure glee, and she practically flew to the fruits, and dropped down beside them with a _thump_. She gently lifted the fruits from the damp, grassy earth and cradled them in her arms, against her warm torso, and smiled up at the sky, at the moon, wide and silver and shinning, the sun's perfect twin.

_Thank you, Lord God! These must be gifts from You? _Eve felt tears well in her eyes. _Oh, Adam will be so happy! Surely, he will cry from happiness!_

_**Snap**_

Eve felt the icy tendrils of fear grip her stomach and shivered as she slowly twisted her neck about, glancing over her shoulder -

- and into the ebony pits that were the eyes of a bear.

The bear was gigantic, and towered over her like a castle, with broad shoulders and a heavy, glossy pelt of night-black fur, and wide, blunt, grey claws. It was standing on its hid legs, staring, _glaring_, down at her with thinly veiled malice, and it's front paws were extended forward, almost as though it were reaching, _clawing_, for the fruits clasped firmly against her chest.

Eve stood, her legs like jelly; her entire body shuddered with barely containable fright.

The bear did not move, just continued to observe with unblinking eyes, it's pupils as large as the moon itself; studied her like a bug trapped beneath a microscope.

They simply stood and gazed at one another for what seemed like eternity and more.

And then Even turned on foot and ran.

Eve ran and ran and ran and ran, faster and faster and faster and faster. Low hanging branches and pointy twigs sliced at her exposed skin and ripped at her clothing, and blood, glorious and crimson, trickled across her skin and splattered against the grass, but Eve didn't dare stop. Because she could hear the thumping, monstrous steps of the bear clambering after her, carelessly knocking aside branches and plants, running and running and _running_.

Eve's breath was like rasper blades in her throat, and sweat ran in rivers down her face; or were they tears? She could not be sure; but she definitely could hear sobbing. Harsh, sorrowful, broken sobbing. Was it her? Was it the bear? Or was it the fruits? She just couldn't tell-

"Ah!"

Eve cried out in surprise as the world suddenly spun, whirling like a whirl pool - her foot snagged on a root - and her shoulders slammed painfully against the ground, sending jolts of sharp, stinging pain burning down her spine like a bolt of lightning. Her vision blurred, and pain throbbed, _ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump_, behind her skull, and her body felt sluggish, her limbs like lead; restricting her movements.

A shadow like a raven's wing devoured her form, and Eve's breath caught in her throat.

The bear was _right behind her!_

She looked up into it's furious black eyes, flaring with the hellish fire of rage, and hugged the fruits closer.

"No..._no!_" She hissed venomously, though her face was drained of all colour. "You can't have them!No-one else can! You understand!_ They are mine! __**Mine!**_"

The bear was not listening; it was advancing. It thundered forward on claw-lined paws, flabby pink lips drawn back in a snarl that revealed row after row of yellowing, fang-like teeth-

"_NO! YOU CAN'T HAVE THEM! __**THEY ARE MINE!**_"

Red.

000

Adam Moonlit was worried.

He stared anxiously on the edge of his chair, his blue eyes never straying from the clock ticking rhythmically on the wall; a constant and steady _tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock_. It was almost five thirty, the clock stated in its black Roman Numerals, carved into the very wood, but Eve wasn't home.

_Why isn't Eve home?_

Eve never stayed out this late. She knew that the bears came out around five, and staying out any later was a serious risk. So why? Why wasn't she home yet? Why wasn't his angelic wife skipping merrily about the kitchen, her twin-tails bouncing, humming a sweet tune to herself as she cooked?

Adam could scarcely hear the clock over his own racing heart, smashing against his rip cage with such force it was a wonder it didn't burst right out.

_Has something happened? _He fretted, eyes wide, and he ran his sweaty hand through his hair. The sweat trickling down his cheeks glistened as he leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, desperately trying to drown out the sound of the tick-tocking clock that seemed somehow louder now that he was thinking. _God, please don't tell me she's been killed by a bear. No. That __**can't**__ have happened. Not to Eve! I...I have to go find her. I have to help her-_

But before Adam could complete the thought, the front door was wrenched open, and the sound of frantic foot-falls and the gasping intake of breath reached his ears. Adam shot up like a spring with such speed that the chair he'd been sitting on toppled over, and he charged into the living room, very nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush.

He bashed the door open with his fist, ignoring the twinge of pain that erupted in his knuckles, and stumbled to a clumsy halt when he saw his wife. Her hair had come undone, cascading freely down her back, and she was covered in cuts and blood and bruises, her dress and cloak torn; the hod was pulled over her head, causing shadows to flicker across her face, darkening her usually cheery complexion. But, despite her obvious state of despair, Adam was filled with a warm, bubbly sense of relief.

Eve was alive.

"Eve!" He shouted, running to her side. "Are you alright? I was so worried-"

It was only then that he noticed the bundles clasped firmly between her trembling hands.

His blue eyes widened.

"Eve..." He whispered, his worry and relief melting away, and replaced with sadness. Pure, sorrowful sadness. The blue shade of his eyes suddenly resembled an ocean of un-shed tears as he stared down at his dishevelled wife.

"Aren't they beautiful, Adam?" Eve murmured, gazing lovingly at the bundles. "They are presents from God himself!"

"Eve...these..." Adam shook his head. How could this have happened? Had losing Mary really driven Eve off the edge?

"Adam? What's wrong? Aren't you happy?" Eve inquired worriedly, touching a hand to his cheek. "God has sent us these beautiful fruits! We should rejoice-"

"Eve." Adam said firmly, his balled fists shaking. "These children are not ours. _They are not Mary_."

Eve blinked.

_Children?_

She looked down.

Held against her torso were not a pair of scarlet apples; but twin infants with tuffs of golden hair, flushed cheeks and sky-blue eyes wet with tears, tears spilling down their chubby faces and dripping nosily against their own tiny torsos.

Eve froze.

"Eve," Adam whispered, inching forward and threading his fingers through Eve's teal hair. "we can still make this right. You must return them to their own mother's side, Eve."

"...n-...no.." Eve breathed. Her voice shook violently, uncontrollably; her entire frame began to shudder. "No..."

"Eve..."

"N-no, th-they're ours," Eve insisted shakily. "O-ours, Adam. N-no-one e-else...n-no-one...!...!"

"Eve-"

"_**NO!**_"

Eve screamed, and her scream was high and shrill and piercing. She screamed and screamed and screamed, and cringed away from Adam's arms; the twins wailed and shrieked, and Adam shouted for Eve to calm down, to settle, but Eve was beside herself. Tears ran like rivers down her cheeks as she screamed, her mind lost in hazy memories that were sudden so very, very clear-

_Two crimson-red fruits-_

_No, two babies, sleeping soundly beside one another, bathed in the silvery light of the moon, their stubby fingers intertwined even as they slept-_

_A huge, black-eyed bear-_

_No, a brown-haired woman wearing a ruby-coloured dress that matched her narrowed eyes, carrying a basket of food and blankets and a glass bottle filled to the brim with white milk-_

_Running and running and running and running, faster and faster and faster and faster-_

_"Give them back! Give my children back!"_

_The bear- the woman was catching up! She'll take them! She'll take them-_

_"**NO!**"_

_Hands reaching around the tender throat-skin, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing; babies crying into the grass, a woman choking, cheeks blue-_

_Blood, red and rich, seeping between clenched teeth-_

"EVE!"

Eve gave a ragged gasp, and blinked herself back into reality. The forest dissolved and her house returned, the cream-coloured walls and the wooden clock and the polished floorboards, and Adam, Adam kneeling right in front of her, grasping her shoulders and shaking her. They were on the floor, and the babies had been taken from her grip and placed in the kitchen, where they continued their song of confused shrieks. Her face was damp, glimmering with tears, and Adam's face was white as a sheet.

"Eve?" He said again, gentler this time.

"A-Adam, I..." Eve's voice was faint, so faint Adam only just heard it. "A-Adam, i-it's impossible."

"What is? What's impossible?"

"G-giving them back.." She croaked, fresh tears swelling in her eyes. "I...I've done something horrible, Adam."

000

Outside their humble cottage was the corpse of a woman.

She had been strangled and beaten by Eve in a fit of hysterical insanity, and her body was covered in ugly purple-blue bruises lined with yellow. Her red eyes were blank and stared unseeingly up at the black sky. Her basket had tipped over, and the milk bottle had rolled out; it glowed silver in the dim lighting, the milk shimmering like crystal.

Adam stood stock-still, his arms wrapped about Eve as she sobbed into his chest. With her mind finally settled, Eve realized what she had done and she was utterly disgusted with herself. She just couldn't bare to look at the woman's dead body, lying there on her side; a life cruelly stolen without reason. The guilt clawed at her insides like the blunt claws of a bear.

"...We'll bury her in the forest," Adam announced. "tomorrow, when it's light. And as for the children..." he glanced over his shoulder and into the house, where the twins sat together on the floor, wrapped a thousand times over in the warmest, softest blankets Eve could lay her hands on. They had since cried themselves to sleep, and lay with their head and hands together, content and blissfully unaware of the murder which had taken place right under their noses.

Adam's eyes softened.

"We'll look after them. They can be our children now, Eve."

Eve nodded wordlessly, too distraught to speak.

000

The next morning, Adam took a shovel and ventured out into the forest to dig a grave, while Eve, her face pale, placed the dead woman on a make-shift stretcher. The stretcher was one of their spare bed sheets tied about two long, chunky strips of fire wood, and, in Eve's mind, it resembled a bed. With the woman lying against the sheet, her eyes elegantly closed and the blood and grime wiped from her white cheeks and blue lips, she almost seemed to be sleeping.

A woman sleeping peaceful on a small bed.

Much better.

Adam and Eve carried the woman to the grave he had dug, and laid her gently down, stretcher and all, and quickly refilled the hole. They stood together, hand in hand, their heads bent in a silent pray. Then they hurriedly returned home, home to where the infant twins awaited them. Eve's face brightened up like a Christmas Tree upon seeing them, and she gathered them into her arms and kissed their foreheads, while Adam picked up the dead mother's basket and rummaged through. Inside he found some pebble-grey sheets, the filled milk bottle, a loaf of bread and some papers with messily written text scribbled across it's crumpled surface. Adam held the paper to the golden candle light and squinted.

"Their names are Hansel and Gretel, and they're about thirteen months old." Adam informed Eve, who glanced up at him, her eye brows lifted in curiosity. "It's their birth certificate. It appears hand-made."

"Hansel and Gretel? Like in that story?" Eve ventured.

"I appears so."

Eve smiled, and rested her chin on the girl's - Gretel's - head, sighing contently.

"What lovely names our children have."

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer: I do not own <strong>_**Vocaloid **_**or the **_**Seven Deadly Sins **_**series. I'm not rich or awesome enough to own either.**

**Thanks for reading! First story ever, gonna be a long one. I really love the _Seven Deadly Sins_ series and I've always wanted to write something about it...and then I discovered this site ! WOOT! xD**

**But I was beaten to it by Hetalia Sautoir-san! I encourage you all to go and read their version, too. I'm enjoying it so far. Read both. They'll both good. ( I hope mine's good, anyway Dx )**

**I apologize for any grammar mistakes. I read through it, but no-one's perfect. I may have missed something ^^ Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Please, if you have any suggestions or the like, please review. Just be nice~ ;]**


	2. oo2 Okizari Tsukiyosyou

_~ Evil Kingdoms ~_

-oo2

**Okizari Tsukiyosyou**

Fourteen years trickled by, and the twins grew older, though their adoptive parents did not change noticeably. The grave in which the dead woman's body lay was covered behind a thick veil of flowers of all shapes and sizes, a thousand different hues blazing in the golden sunlight of early morning, like a rainbow that had been snatched away from the heavens and wound up like a spiral, the series of glimmering colours still intact.

The twins had no other children to play with, and so became very close; there was no moment in time where they were not together, joined at the hand, whether they be playing in the gardens or wrestling in bed. Their golden hair grew out, and though Adam insisted he cut it, once Hansel reached the age where he stopped hanging to each and every word his parents' said he decided to grow it out. The result was that, with his hair released from the short, stubby pony-tail it was usually strung back in, he was like a carbon copy of Gretel, though with broader shoulders, narrower eyes and a less rounded chin. Gretel could do the exact opposite, by tying back her hair and slipping into a more 'masculine' attire.

Every day, Adam would, in the dead of night and with only the light of a candle to guild him, go to where the woman was buried, and stare. He often wondered if those beautiful flowers were growing so enthusiastically because of the dead body rotting beneath them; had those flowers sucked up all the remaining nutrients, like her blood and her flesh and her bones, and transformed it into fuel?

The thought sickened him.

The guilt of her murder - the murder of an innocent woman, simply trying to rescue her children from a violent stranger - tore at his insides like the talons of a bird of prey. Adam could not so much as breath without feeling the razor-bladed jolt of guilt snarling in his chest.

"Adam," Eve whispered, and her voice was like silk, gently caressing his ear drum, as her hand slipped into his own. "come back inside. It is too cold for you to be out here."

"The guilt," Adam breathed, his voice horse and harsh. "the guilt is killing me, Eve. I...I cannot stand to look at them!" There was no need to ask who _them_ referred to.

"I know, Adam." Eve murmured, and she stared down at the flower bed; the grave. "I know."

Behind her long, sloping eye lashes, Eve's blue-green eyes suddenly darkened, and something cruel and sinful and malicious flared into life. Her fingers wrapped tightly about his, and she moved forward, her movements elegant and graceful, and she placed her chin on his broad shoulder and hissed:

"_Let's kill them_."

000

"Hansel! Hansel, catch!"

A round, creamy object came whizzing through the air, and Hansel gave a start as the ball smacked against the side of his head, and with a violent cry he and his seat toppled over, landing against the grassy earth with a painful-sounding _thud_. Hansel groaned pathetically, rolling over and squeezing his throbbing skull, while Gretel laughed hysterically, stumbling about the yard and clutching her stomach and tears sparkling in her eyes.

"Sh-shut up, Gretel!" Hansel growled as he blushed bright pink and he jerked his head up, only to hiss as a sharp, stinging pain shot through his scalp.

"I _told_ you to catch!" Gretel giggled, prancing over and gently poking her brother's flushed cheek. Hansel glared at her, but already his anger was fading, dissolving into embarrassment and brotherly love beneath the affectionate gaze of his twin sister.

"You could've given me a bit more warning," he whined, blue eyes hurt.

Gretel laughed again, and her laugh was like the sweet whispering of wind whistling through silver chimes, and Hansel, despite his annoyance, could not help but smile. Gretel was, after all, his whole world, and the sound of her laughter always calmed his restless spirit, even _if_ that restlessness was induced by Gretel's actions.

"Hansel! Gretel!" A cheery voice called, and two sets of sky-blue eyes snapped up, searching for the source; and they spotted their teal-haired mother half-hanging out of a window, waving her hand in a beckoning motion. "Lunch is ready! Hurry, before it gets cold!"

"Okay!" The twins sung as one, and Gretel helped Hansel climb off the ground, and together, their fingers intertwined like the branches of the canopy, they headed towards their home of the last fourteen years. It was a humble little house, with a wooden roof and creamy walls and a cobble-stone chimney; around the house grew the dense forest with thick-trunk trees and jade green leaves, threading together to create the canopy that terrified their mother so.

This isolated world, shut off from civilization and, seemingly, time itself, was all the twins knew.

Eve smiled slightly at their flushed, sweaty faces as the twins poured through the door, and, like foxes after rabbits, followed the sweet, alluring scent of Eve's freshly baked brioche, light and puffy and smelling as heavenly as ever. Adam was sitting at the back of the room, totally engrossed in his news paper; he did not so much as glance at the twins as they flopped into the chairs, simultaneously thanked their darling mother for the glorious pastry, and lunged ravenously as the food. They grinned at one another as Gretel smeared golden honey across the crisp, golden-brown surface, and Hansel sunk his teeth into the pastry, letting out a small squeak of delighted surprise.

"Th-this is great, mother!" He praised over his shoulder, blue eyes shinning like stars.

"Yeah!" Gretel chimed in agreement. "You've never cooked a brioche as good as this one, mother!"

Eve smiled warmly, skipping over and playfully ruffling her children' golden locks.

"Only the best for my kids!" She beamed. She leaned over and planted a soft kiss on Hansel's forehead, and a nosy one on Gretel's cheek. Gretel yowled like a startled cat and attempted to wriggle away, but Eve held her fast and forced another sloppy kiss on her face.

"AAAAAHHH! HAN! HELP ME! RIGHT NOW!"

"M-mother, please stop teasing her!"

Eve laughed loudly, cheerfully, as she pulled away from a hissing and spitting Gretel, who really did resemble a ticked off cat now, her blonde hair sticking up all over the place and her standard white bow flopping to the side.

Adam peered over the edge of his news paper, observing silently as Hansel stumbled over to his sister, fussing over her reddened cheeks and pissed off expression, and handed her a napkin, which she snatched away rather violently and practically whipped it at her cheeks. When that got her no where, she whined like a wounded animal, and looked to Hansel pleadingly. Hansel sighed, though a warm smile still graced his lips, took the napkin and did the job himself.

"You should be able to do that yourself, Greta." Hansel chided lightly.

Gretel pouted, blinking innocently, and Hansel laughed, a laugh so full of love and happiness that it drove a stalk through Adam's heart, and he felt a sudden icy chill ripple up his spine.

Adam gave a sharp gasp of shock when he felt tears well in his eyes, and, before anyone could catch sight of them, he quickly hid his face behind the blurry grey screen that was his news paper, and gripped the papers desperately between his long, rough fingers, liquid shimmering faintly on his cheeks.

"Kids, we're going out tonight," Eve announced as Gretel licked the remaining honey off her plate, and Hansel patted his stomach with a look of blissful satisfaction.

"Going out?" Gretel inquired curiously, gazing up at her mother, and Hansel mirrored her movements.

"Yep. The four of us are going to go collect fire wood together."

Hansel blinked in confusion, a small frown creasing his face. "Why? Father always goes and does that by himself. Besides, isn't dangerous to be outside at night? There are bears, aren't there?"

Annoyance flickered in Eve's eyes, and Hansel flinched, and sunk back into his chair, so his neck pressed fast against the cool wood. There was nothing that frightened him more then an angry Eve; except, perhaps, an angry Eve who's fury was directed at _him_.

"Stop worrying, Hansel," Gretel grumbled. Then she grinned broadly, and lightly punched his shoulder. "It'll be fun! Besides, father's got a gun and he can use it. We'll be safe."

Hansel still appeared doubtful, but he didn't dare say word with his mother hovering at his side, her eyes like daggers and her mouth a thin, disapproving line. But just as abruptly as her anger had appeared, it vanished, and Eve was once again her joyful, merry old self.

"Hansel has a point. But so does Gretel, we'll be fine. So get ready!" She commanded, pointing in the direction of the twins' room. "Go and get dressed in warmer clothing. It'll be cold tonight."

"Okay!" Gretel sang, and she bounded out of her chair and danced through the kitchen, but stopped outside the entrance to the hall way, shifting her weight from foot to foot and bouncing with excitement.

"Come on, Hansel!"

Hansel hesitated, but the pink-cheeked look of anticipation flushing his sister's round face beat whatever worries and suspicions he may have harboured, and, smiling weakly, he rose from his seat and collected the dishes.

"Okay, okay. Coming."

"Awesome! Meet you in our room!"

"Okay."

But Gretel didn't hear him, she was already gone, and Hansel let his timid smile fall right of his face.

"It'll be fun, Hansel," Eve insisted from the living room. She was standing right in front of the cobble-stone fire place, a large, glossy pot of stew gurgling audible above the orange flames that licked hungrily at the base. Her teal-coloured hair was held securely behind her head as she leaned forward slightly, lifting her hands to warm by the fire. Adam was yet to leave his seat, and, Hansel noticed, had been reading the same newspaper page for a number of minutes.

"I know. I'm just...just a little worried, I guess." He chuckled nervously as he dumped the dishes in the sink. Then he blushed, and confessed: "The thought of being in the forest at night really scares me."

"You'll be fine." Eve promised, looking up and smiling.

Adam was silent.

000

With their bellies full of chicken stew and another freshly baked round of honey-coated brioche, the twins were literally nodding off as the family started down the road, Hansel and Gretel clasping each others hands as they always did, Adam and Eve walking side by side, exchanging brief, haunting glances as they moved further and further into the dark, gloomy forest.

"Hey, mother," Gretel yawned, absentmindedly rubbing her eye with her free hand. "What kind of fortune will come to us at the end of this path?"

Eve blinked in astonishment. "I'm sorry?"

"'Will we be able to eat lots of our favourite snacks over there?' is what she means." Hansel translated in a lazy voice.

"Ah...well, maybe, dear. Just stay awake, now."

Gretel blinked groggily, and gave a sort of half-nod before resting her head on Hansel's shoulder. They continued on walking for a short period of silence, with only the soft hum of the forest to fill the void. Then a thought popped magically into Hansel's mind.

"Father," He murmured. "will God be waiting for us at the end of the path?"

"We're going to collect fire wood, Hansel." Adam reminded him dryly.

"Oh, yeah." Hansel screwed his eyes shut, and opened them slowly, willing his brain to continue operating. As he looked up, he caught a glimpse of his father's face; and it was a sorrowful face, with heavy purple bags induced by lack of sleep, hanging like sacks beneath his blue eyes, so empty and cold when he looked at his children. His mouth was a straight, hard line, as though it had been carved into his very face, and there was not a hint of happiness, not a drop of joy, anywhere in his expression.

With his mind steadily slipping into slumber, Hansel did not think twice before asking:

"Why are you looking at us with such a sad face?"

Adam started, but composed himself quickly and hurriedly looked away, refusing Hansel an answer. He stared pointedly at his father's back for a few minutes, hoping to force a response by pressure-power alone, but Adam ignored his existence all together, and the hole he was burning into his shirt. Hansel huffed in defeat.

"Greta," He whispered, poking her gently in the arm. Gretel was just about asleep; almost all her body weight was resting solely on his shoulder, and her footsteps were small and clumsy, her eye-sight blurred by her longing to sleep. But she managed to form a reply, though it was nothing short of a few muffled murmurs, something along the lines of: "Tired...wanna sleep..."

Hansel smiled.

"Mother, father!" He called, and Adam and Eve stopped and stared at him. "Gretel is about to collapse. Do you mind if we stay here? We're close to the house, aren't we?" In truth, Hansel hadn't been watching where they were going. He was too tired to care, really, and he trusted his parents' to lead them back.

Adam's eyes went wide as saucers, but Eve grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh, that's fine, Han." She gushed, skipping over and gently pushing Hansel down via his shoulders. "You and Greta wait here for us. Adam! You brought two guns, didn't you? One for each of us? Give one to Hansel."

Adam gaped at her, but did not argue, and obediently passed Hansel the smaller of the two weapons. It felt strangely warm and light between his fingers, and glittered in an ominous way in the faint moonlight.

"If there's any trouble, shot that and Adam and I will come running, okay?" Eve instructed, crouching sound and giving him a light peck on the cheek. "You can do that, right?" Hansel nodded. "Good boy. And good girl, Greta." Eve looked to Gretel, and was a little surprised to see she'd already drifted into a deep sleep.

"I know what to do, mother. But don't take to long, please?" Hansel pleaded. He looked around anxiously. "I...I hate this darkness."

"Well be back before you know it. Bye, sweety." Eve then stood and, taking Adam's hand, wife and husband scurried off into the black forest, leaving their twin children alone.

Hansel stared after them, watching and watching until their figures were all but swallowed up by the veil of night; then he puffed out a sigh and snuggled closer to his sister. The dark world around him was oppressive and huge, black and menacing; it seemed to push against him on all sides, suffocating him, drowning him. Monsters with a thousand eyes and spidery legs scuttled along just out of sight, hissing and watching and whispering across the earth-

_Don't think about that!_ Hansel clutched the gun close to his chest and begged his over-active imagination to shut off. Suddenly he wasn't so tired anymore, and his mind was wide awake, and very alert to every rustle of a bush, snap of a twig, hoot of an owl; his heart thundered away in his chest and sweat glimmered on his forehead.

"Hurry back, mother." Hansel croaked.

000

The house, Adam noted, seemed strangely empty without the twins.

He wandered into the living room and watched in a strange state of numbness as Eve danced into the kitchen and pulled her apron off the counter, deftly tying it about her waist. She seemed totally fine, totally at ease, with the fact that they'd just cast away the two children _she'd _yearned for. That _she'd _killed for.

"This is _much_ better isn't, Adam?" Eve laughed, tapping the counter with her hands, as though she was playing the drum. "Two less mouths to feed. I never realized how poor we were until we took them in, you know? I had to save up _weeks_ worth of wages to buy those brioche! And listen!" She cupped her ear and Adam blinked, unable to comprehend what she was doing. "No noise! No fighting, no annoyingly high-pitched laughter - just silence! It's it nice?"

"Y...yeah." Adam mumbled, his lips dry. "It-it is nice." He slumped down in a near-by chair, and heaved a great, shuddering sigh. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand, his elbow propped up against the chair, and closed his eyes.

"It's nice."

000

_They're not coming back, are they?_

Hansel didn't want to admit it, wanted to somehow beat the thought away, but it was the horrible, bitter truth, and he knew it. He wasn't stupid. He wasn't some dim-witted kid who blindly followed orders, though tonight may have portrayed him differently.

Adam and Eve weren't coming back.

They had been gone for hours; the moon was now half-way through the sky.

He and Gretel had been abandoned in the middle of the night, with only the dim, watery light of the great moon leaking in through rare breaks in the canopy above to guild them, and unknown creatures of the forest for company.

Fear like none Hansel had ever experienced before swelled monstrously in his stomach, and it was like someone had tossed ice-cold water over his head. His mind went blank, and he stared unseeingly out at the landscape that seemed so alien yet was so close to home.

He hadn't noticed before, but Eve had led them down a completely different path then the one they normally took. This neck of the forest held thicker trees with gnarled roots and holey leaves, while the trees they were used to were leaner and harboured broader leaves of a rich green hue. Even in the light of day, Hansel was quite certain _these _leaves would be a darker colour, something closer to green-grey.

"Gretel," He hissed, shaking his sister by the shoulders. "Gretel! Wake up! We're in trouble!"

"I-I didn't do it! I swear!" Gretel barked, her blue eyes snapping open and her body jerking upright. She flung her hands out as if to ward off any reaching hands or disapproving comments. When she realized it was just Hansel there, staring stupidly at her, she blushed bright pink and laughed awkward, scratching the back of her neck.

"Sorry...What were you saying?"

"We're in trouble."

Gretel frowned. "How so?"

"Mother and father left us in the forest," he said tonelessly, and Gretel gasped. "They left hours ago to supposedly look for fire wood, but they never came back."

"..no..." Gretel shook her head wildly. "M-mother wouldn't do that! Neither would father! Th-they love us- ...don't they?" Tears sparkled in her eyes.

"Are they really our parents in the first place?" Hansel whimpered bitterly. Tears were beginning to form in his eyes, too. "They don't look anything like us, you know. Apart from father's eyes, but his are much darker then ours. Mother has green hair, for crying out loud!"

"So they left us!" Gretel shrieked. "Left us here to-to-"

"-to die." Hansel finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

They sat in silence, and even the forest seemed to quieten, and allowed them the time to grief. Sadness swirled in Hansel's chest, but there was something else, too; something darker, crueller. Anger. Unbelievable amounts of angry. His supposed 'parents' had betrayed not only him, but his darling sister - and their betrayal had caused her to shed tears. He balled his hands to fists, and dug his nails into his skin with such strength that his knuckles shone white. Anger burned in his chest and the need to hit, to hurt, strengthened with each passing second; he wanted those _fakes_ to pay, to pay for what they were putting Gretel through, for everything that was yet to happen, for the darkness, for his terrible, inhuman fear, for Gretel's tears-

And then Gretel was on her feet, and she was tugging at his shirt.

"Hansel, let's go."

Hansel stared up at her. "Wh-what?"

"Let's go!" She shouted. "I..I can't stand to just sit here! Let's go!"

Hansel nodded, understanding his sister's need to move, and stood with her, gripping her hand reassuringly between his fingers. Gretel wiped her tears away, sniffing loudly; the groped around in her pocket for something. A few moments later she pulled free a tiny glass bottle that instantly caught the silvery light and shone like a star, lighting up the previously dark path within a heart-beat. The watery moonlight danced off the foggy surface, and Hansel and Gretel gasped in amazement.

"Whoa." Hansel breathed, eyes wide. "Greta, what..?"

"It's our old milk bottle." Gretel explained, her eyes bright with awe. "I saw mother" - her voice broke slightly, but a quick squeeze from Hansel's hand brought her back - "throwing it out, but I thought it was pretty and stole it from the trash can. I brought it with us...I'm glad I did, though."

"Me, too." Hansel took the bottle from Gretel's hand and lifted it higher; the silver light stretched long and wide, illuminating their selected path. It was riddled with twisted roots and tuffs of grass and scattered piles rotting leaves; but it _was_ a path.

"Let's go."

000

The twins had no idea how long passed. It may have been years, or a mere few seconds. But time seemed to slow to a stand-still as they milled aimlessly through the gloomy forest of gigantic trees and blackened leaves and grotesquely shaped roots, bursting out out the earth at random moments like fossilized waves.

To pass the time, they told each other stories. Stories about princes and princesses and distant kingdoms with huge, majestic castles. Hansel didn't particularly like the lovey-dovey stories where the oh-so handsome hero slew the fire breathing dragon rescued his own personal damsel in distress, and though Gretel agreed they could do without the stereotypically helpless women, she enjoyed the action and the romance, so Hansel told as many of those stories as he could think of.

Eventually, they reached the story from which their names originated. The story of Hansel and Gretel by the famous _Master mothy_. A tale of twins who got lost in the woods, and were taken in by a seemingly kind old lady who turned out to be a wicked, green-skinned witch hell-bent on cooking them up and eating them. (Though in Hansel's story, **Hansel** did nothing but sit in the corner and suck his thumb while Gretel killed the witch and saved them both. That version made Gretel giggle every time, no matter the circumstances under which it was told).

At what point the twins began to believe the story to be reality...no-one can be sure of.

000

"Hansel!"

Gretel's frantic whisper was low and urgent, and Hansel blinked himself back into reality, hulling himself out the dream-like state he so often slipped into. Gretel was holding the glowing bottle now, and she was walking a little ahead of him, though their hands were still glued together. The bottle's light, Hansel noted, seemed stronger then before, and -

- and yellow?

"Candle light?" He guessed in a low voice, and Gretel nodded in confirmation. Gretel harshly smacked the bottle against the earth, and the thin glass shattered with a musical hiss, and darkness descended once again; but the golden-yellow candle light cut through it like a knife through butter, lighting the way. Hansel collected up the glass, and offered Gretel several pieces, which she hurriedly stuffed into one of her many pockets; Hansel did the same with his pieces, and was careful not to slice himself on the sharp, glassy edge.

Now alert, Hansel bent low and tip-toed around in the darkness with his sister, peering over the leering branches and broad leaves. They found themselves staring into a clearing, in which a humble house stood, puffing smoke from a stone chimney and leaking light through curtained windows. It appeared sweet and friendly at first, but the twins knew better.

That was the home of the evil witch.

"Her henchmen," Hansel growled venomously, twitching his head towards the black outline of a tall, lean man standing at the foot of a flower bed, where the flowers grew strong and proud.

"And the witch," Gretel added in a equally loathing tone, glancing at the window where the blurry silhouette of a woman rippled over the curtains.

"Let's kill them," Gretel insisted. "we'll be _so_ much happier if they were dead."

"Yeah." Hansel nodded in agreement. "Let's kill them. I'll take the henchmen. Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Just who do you think you're talking to?" Gretel scoffed. Then she freed her hand from his and disappeared into the undergrowth, and Hansel stalked soundlessly towards the henchmen, his footsteps careful and cautious.

The henchmen looked somewhat sorrowful as he stared down at the flower bed, but Hansel didn't care. The henchmen had to die; otherwise he would go and save the witch, undoubtedly killing Gretel in the process.

And Hansel could not - _would _not - allow his sister to be murdered.

As he neared the henchmen's ghostly outline, Hansel reached around and felt the icy, metallic surface of the gun tickle his skin, and, silently, he tugged it free. The raven surface glimmered ever so faintly as it briefly touched the moonlight, but once it was in the darkness, it seemed to materialize into the air, completely invisible to the world; the only evidence that it even existed was the fact Hansel could feel it, light and smooth, between his fingers.

It was the gun his so called 'father' had given him, before unceremoniously dumping him and Gretel in the middle of no-where. The gun, Hansel knew, had only one bullet; one glossy grey, cylinder-shaped bullet, rounded and smooth, waiting patiently to be fired and end the life of an unsuspecting target.

He couldn't afford to miss.

He crawled forward slowly, the gun hovering beside his knee. The henchmen stood still as a stature, unaware of his impending death. Hansel kept moving until the henchmen was practically beside him - his head of blue hair unkept and forking this way and that in lazy, sloping spikes - and Hansel raised the gun, and tried to ignore the fear blooming in his chest, squeezing his lungs and clawing at his throat. His hands had begun to tremble, and sweat was trickling down his face.

Hansel swallowed.

And then pulled the trigger.

_**BANG**_

The henchmen screamed.

000

Gretel sneaked noiselessly through the garden, and gently nudged open a window. The cold air stirred the curtains and caused the already pathetically weak candles to flicker, but other then that, there was no reaction, and, silent as a mouse, Gretel heaved herself over the frame and landed with a wispy _thump_. She froze in place, arms half-raised and eyes wide.

Nothing.

She let out a sigh of relief, then looked around. The room in which she stood cowering was small and square, with twin unmade beds shoved into a corner, white sheets askew and pillows tossed carelessly across the room. There were several books piled haphazardly on one bed, and there was brown haired doll clad in a scarlet red dress on the other, her head resting in the very place a pillow should have sat.

Gretel stared curiously at the beds, at the doll and the books; and then shook herself and scurried to the door, gently prodding it open, and peering cautiously into the hallway beyond. The hallway was void of light, but the wishy-washy light cast by a fire burning in the living room glowed ominously near the very end. Gretel could hear someone humming gleefully, and the _clip-clap_ sound of feet skipping across a titled floor.

Gretel's heart skipped a beat.

_The witch!_

Gretel tip-toed down the hall, trying to ignore her rapidly racing heart, and glanced into the kitchen.

The witch was there, her back to Gretel. She was wearing her glossy black travelling cap, the one that obscured her ghastly face from view, and she was putting some pots and pans back into the cupboard. On the bench was a bowl of some sort of creamy yellow liquid, bubbling and spitting and issuing steam.

Gretel licked her dry lips, and reached for the glass in her pocket. The razor edge cut into her skin, but Gretel scarcely felt it. All she could think about was the witch; _kill the witch, kill the witch, __**kill the witch!**_

Gretel's fear evaporated, and she stormed angrily into the kitchen, lifting the glass high over her head as though it were a knife. The witch didn't notice her - she was too engrossed in her own peaceful little world of roses and leaks to bother watching her surroundings - and Gretel swung the glass down, _down down down -_

_**BANG!**_

"_AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_"

The _crack_ of a gun shot, quickly followed by a horrific scream of pain, shattered the silence, and the witch and Gretel both shrieked in shock, jumping in fright and dropping whatever they were holding. The pans clattered nosily against the titles, and the glass shattered into a million diamond-like pieces, glinting and glimmering in the fire's angry red light. The witch whipped round, alerted by the sound, with her turquoise eyes blazing like the flames of the heath, and Gretel's felt fear grip her heart.

"YOU!" The witch screeched, and she threw herself at Gretel, knocking her backwards. Gretel screamed, and lashed out with her sharp-nailed fingers, and clawed at the witch's faces. The witch fought back, furiously, wildly - like an enraged animal - and bite hard into Gretel's arm, drawing blood and kicking at her legs. They as one raging mass of thrashing bodies, rolling around on the ground and screaming and snarling and punching -

Gretel slammed her knee into the witch's gut, and the witch gagged. Gretel shoved her away and, sobbing, attempted to scramble to her feet, using the bench as leverage; but the witch's hand whipped out and caught her ankle, and Gretel screamed in fright as she was wrenched back down. Her fingers automatically curled into a fist, but instead clasped around something and it was pulled down with her. Gretel swung the object about in a huge, frantic arc, flinging it at the witch.

And boiling stew splashed her face - her eyes - and the witch threw her head back and shrieked.

"MY EYES!" She wailed. She clambered to her feet and stumbled forward, but she was no longer reaching for Gretel, but instead searching for the sink, for cold water. "MY EYES!"

Gretel started, and looked at her hands. She was holding the pan she'd seen earlier, steaming on the bench. She looked at the witch, screaming and crying and _utterly helpless_.

Gretel grinned victoriously.

She leapt to her feet, bounded to the witch, and smashed the pan into her side. The witch cried out and tumbled across the floor, and lay there for a moment, writhing pain. Yet, somehow, she managed to get to her feet again, but Gretel was coming, and she was swinging the pan like a mad awe-men, slapping at any skin she could find and leaving ugly red marks in her wake.

The witch retreated across the room, weeping and screaming the whole time. The battling pair moved closer and closer to the furnace which burned fiercely, beckoning them forward. Gretel stared into the fire, into it's red-orange flames and blazing ambers, and understood. She threw her away her pan and dived forward, using all her body weight against the witch, and the witch was flung backwards, off her feet -

- and straight into the fire.

A screech like none Gretel had ever heard before split the air like a lightning bolt, but was silenced almost instantly as the fire flared, filling the room with a blinding white light that sent Gretel reeling. She raised her hands in a helpless motion, desperately attempting to shield her eyes.

And then the light was gone, and Gretel lowered her hands and looked around the empty room, panting hard and bathed in her own sweat.

The witch was dead.

000

Adam felt as though his face was on fire; the pain issuing from a bloody lump of flesh dangling from the side of his face that had once been his ear. Blood cascaded down his face in crimson rivers, splattering against his shirt and oozing across the material, and Adam screamed and screamed, pain searing in his very veins. He clamped his hand over the wound and stumbled towards the house, screaming and crying and his legs wobbling like jelly, and blood - oh, god, the blood - spilling everywhere, painting everything a rich and glorious red.

Over the piercing sound of his own shrieks, Adam didn't hear the rustle of bushes parting or the thunder of foot falls. But he did feel the sharp kick to his chest that knocked all the air from his lungs, and the sweeping blow to his feet, ripping them out from under him. He fell, and his body slapped hard against the earth, but before he could move, there was another kick - this time to his head - and the world spun and blurred over, like a fog had suddenly descended.

His eyes rolled in their sockets, and, looking up, he saw the faceless outline of a boy, a boy with golden hair, and a revolver clasped firmly between trembling hands. The faded lips were moving - forming words - but Adam could hear nothing. He was staring at the golden hair, that beautiful golden hair, strung back in a stubby pony-tail and spiking out near his forehead -

_Hansel_.

Something fierce awoke in Adam's chest, and with a roar he launched himself off the ground and bodily shoved Hansel back, knocking the boy off his feet and sending his smashing against the earth. The world whirled and Adam stumbled, but he did not fall, and after a few hasty blinks, it all fell back into focus.

Adam marched over to Hansel, who was gasping for breath, and brought his foot crashing down on the boy's stomach. Hansel's mouth flew open in a soundless scream of agony.

"You're...you're supposed to be _dead!_" Adam cried, delivering another agonizing kick. "Eve and I abandoned you! You were both supposed to die-"

Suddenly, another bout of pain erupted - this time in his leg - and Adam shouted in pained surprise. He looked down and was horrified to see Hansel burying a piece of glass into his leg, gouging at the muscles, at the tendons; ripping away at his tender flesh. The glass tore at Hansel's bare hand, as well, but the boy didn't seem to notice, and gave a mighty cry as he thrust the glass deep into Adam's leg, so deep that more then a half of the piece vanished into the bloody mess of his leg, and Adam screamed in utter agony, and wrenched his leg away.

But the glass had already tore through something important, something vital, and blood squirted out of the wound like a red fountain, and painted the black world crimson. Adam felt a wave of painful exhaustion wash over him, and with a terrible jolt he realized he was bleeding to death.

He...

He was dying.

"No..." He moaned miserably. "No...I don't want to die..."

He staggered, and collapsed to his knees; blood was gushing everywhere, and his heart was beating rapidly in his chest, and the world was quickly fading into blackness. He heard the ragged gasping of breath, and saw Hansel wriggle onto his feet, staring, horror-struck, at the blood pooling across the grass.

"You..." Adam seethed, and, with impressive speed, he clambered over to where Hansel stood gaping and snatched him by the collar, dragging him back down. Blood splashed against his shirt, and the plain white material was stained scarlet.

"You killed me." Adam rasped. "I...I will-"

His words were drowned out, however, by a blood curdling scream, and brilliant white light streamed out the windows like laser beams, setting the yard - and Adam's blood - ablaze. The flare of light only lasted a few blinding seconds, and black soon fell, but tears flooded Adam's eyes and streamed down his face.

"E-Eve..." He choked.

And then his eyes glazed over, and he fell, lifeless and limp, into Hansel's lap.

000

Hansel stared at the bloody body curled up on his lap, his eyes as wide as saucers. His heart was beating so fast it was a wonder it didn't burst out of his chest, and his body was drenched with sweat, and his middle-section burned with the pain of the henchmen's repeated striking. His breathing was laboured, and his mind seemed somehow foggy, sluggish.

But...

The henchmen was dead.

He'd done it. He'd killed the henchmen.

And that light -

Had Gretel killed the witch?

Or had the witch -

Panic struck Hansel like a bullet to the chest, and he roughly threw the body aside and sprung to his feet. He bashed the door in with his foot and charged into the house, oblivious to the throbbing pain in his stomach and the blood flowing freely from his hand and the splatters dying across his shirt. He cast his sight around, searching mindlessly for his sister.

"Gretel! Gretel! Are you okay!"

"H-Hansel...? Hansel!"

A moment later, Gretel appeared, and her face was white as a sheet and dripping with sweat, but she was grinning widely and her eyes twinkled with excitement.

"Hansel!" She squealed, happiness flashing across her face.

"Gretel!" Hansel raced over to his sister and captured her in a bear hug that she immediately returned, laughing and smiling and giggling.

"Oh, thank _god!_ I was scared that you'd been hurt!" Gretel gushed, and then she noticed the strange, wet warmth and pulled away. She blanched at the sight of the blood and covered her mouth with her hands, eyes going wide.

"H-Hansel, is that your -"

"No, no," Hansel stammered. "I-it's the henchmen's blood. Don't worry about it."

Gretel visibly relaxed, and dropped her hands. "Oh, thank goodness- ah! Your hand!"

Gretel took his bleeding hand in hers, and stared in disgust and horror at the crimson liquid seeping between his quivering fingers. Hansel offered a weak smile.

"It's fine," He insisted, but Gretel shook her head in exasperation and lead him into the living room, where the fire roared with renewed strength and the charred, blackened remains of what had once been Eve Moonlit crumbled into soot.

"The henchmen?" Gretel questioned as Hansel seated himself down in one of the two chairs surrounding the bare table, cradling his hand, and Gretel strolled into the kitchen, hunting for some cloths to clean the wound with.

"Dead. And the witch...?"

Gretel twitched her lips into what looked more like a bitter, twisted grimace then a triumphant smile. "I tossed her in the oven."

Hansel let out a soft "Ah" of realization, remember the sudden explosion of bright light that had blinded him for several seconds while battling with the bleeding henchmen. He glanced at the fire, and spied the pile of smouldering black soot, and felt a sick sense of satisfaction build in his chest. They had won. The evil witch and her equally evil henchmen were dead and gone.

Hansel watched the ashes, trying and failing to imagine them as a healthy, fully grown woman with a voice and a soul and a husband. The ashes, he noticed, were beginning to smoke, to hiss and spit, and Hansel frowned in confusion. Did ashes normally do that? He could not recall witnessing anything similar in the past fourteen years. He squinted and stared down at the ashes intently, his mouth and eyes stretching open as the ash suddenly began to take on a new appearance all together; greens and purples and blues and yellows and reds swirling into one vivid mass that expanded and sparkled and rose higher, higher into the air -

"Gretel!" Hansel shouted urgently, springing out of his chair and backing away from the mass of colours.

"What?" Gretel demanded icily, annoyed by the abrupt summoning, but her anger was snuffed out by the incredible sight. She gasped loudly and clenched Hansel's uninjured hand, and together they cowered with their backs fast against the wall, gaping like a pair of stunned mullets.

A glowing orb of purple floated out from the mass and transformed into a beautifully alluring flower; and somehow, the twins just knew it was the sin of Lust. It was followed by a circle of red, which became pomegranate seeds, and it was Gluttony. The third was a pair of glistening diamonds, yellow as a sun flower, and they were Pride. The fourth was Envy, and it was a pink, transparent glass of fresh spring water. The next was Sloth, and it was a gust of winter winds, upon which was carried a woman who resembled the deceased Eve. The sixth, Greed, morphed into a blue hour glass carrying soil inside, and the seventh, Wrath, was white with a sicken green-ish tinge, and it became a tiny, ominous moon, like the white eye of Satan, glaring down at them.

The twins could only watch, awe-struck and stupefied, as the seven deadly sins were lifted towards the ceiling by some unseen force and fluttered out through the chimney, disappearing into the blue-black, star-sprinkled sky.

"I hope the world cleanses them," Gretel whispered in evident fear, but also astonished respect.

Hansel squeezed her hand.

"Me too."

Some time later, after the numb excitement over what they had witnessed died away, the twins curled up in the unmade beds and dreamt of their real mother and father smiling down at the from heaven. They laid with their hands and heads together, and light, warm smiles gracing their lips.

* * *

><p><strong>Good gosh, that was a LONG chapter! (Lame ending, though) On CompareOffice, it was about 18 pages long! Holy gosh! I've never written something so long! The reason it was so long, btw, is because I love the Kagamine twins, who play Hansel and Gretel~ They're just adorable.<strong>

**I wrote the fight scenes quite late at night, and I don't particularly like them, but, meh, I've never been good at fight scenes anyway.**

**I apologize for any grammar mistakes. I read through it, but it was a long chapter.**

**Heh, is my story that bad? No reviews at all? *shrugs* oh well. I'm writing this story for me. But, still, thanks for reading! And if you COULD review, though, that would make my day~! xD **


	3. oo3 Chrono Story

_~ Evil Kingdoms ~_

-oo3

**Chrono Story**

Not three days had passed before the Eldoh Tree, guardian of the forest, noticed something was amiss in his world of greenery and tranquillity. The world was buzzing with nervous anticipation; the very air seemed to tremble with anxiety.

And it was all, he discovered, due to some golden-haired twins, their meek father and their sinful, deceased - murdered - mother. The family of four had spawned a new kind of loathing, of insanity, on top of a number of other disgusting, twisted sins, and the twins, in a moment of irrational anger, had released those sins upon the world.

So the Eldoh Tree called for an ancient friend of his who owed him a favour, his rasping breath whispering on the wind, and within hours, she had arrived.

"_Elluka Clockwork,_" the tree murmured a greeting.

Elluka Clockwork was an ageless sorceress with platinum blond hair that cascaded down her back in a water fall of silky curls, and eyes were sharp and a icy, piercing blue. Her skin was smooth and her build was curvy; all together quite appealing. She wore a skin tight dress that was black as night, with a smooth, white material spilling outwards from her waist, lined in golden silk. Her broad, but slopping shoulders were exposed by the dress. She wore a kind of veil over head, though it did not obscure her facial features, and it was long, patterned with faint, white flowers, hand-drawn upon the material, and swept across the grass as she walked.

"Eldoh, my dear," Elluka smiled sweetly, her full, red lips twitching in a sort of half-smile. "What can I do for you?"

The great face of Eldoh, huge and green and hanging right out of the thick tree, moved ever so slightly upwards, as though acknowledging her compliance.

"_I have a task for you._" The old tree explained. "_A pair of twins unleashed the seven deadly sins onto the world: Lust, in the country of Asmodin; Gluttony, in the country of Belzenia; Pride, in the country of Lucifenia; Envy, in the country of Levianta; Sloth, in the country of Elphegort; Greed, also in the country of Levianta, though it will originate in Marlon; and Wrath, from the distant, unknown country._"

Elluka rolled her beautiful eyes. "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

The tree shot her a scolding stare tinged with the amusement of an old man. Elluka rolled her eyes a second time, then smiled bitterly and touched a few slender fingers to her bottom lip. Something dark flashed in her blue eyes, and her smile - her smirk - widened ever so slightly.

"I don't mind as long as it keeps me entertained." Sneered the sorceress. "I have unlimited time anyway."

Elluka was immortal. Such trivial things as aging and time did not effect her in the lest. She was like a stone washed in by the tide, lodged in the beach's sands, unable to break free and be swept away in the great ocean blue once again. She was an untouchable force that stood alone in this world, unique and as unknown as the mysterious, wrath-infested country.

But this immortality with which she had been blessed...it brought only a depressing sense of emptiness; she lead a meaningless life void of hope and desires. A life spent in continuous grief for the loved one she lost, and the precious thing she destroyed with her own two hands...

"_So you will do it?_" Inquired Eldoh, gnarled lips moving slowly, steadily, to form the low, droning words.

Elluka's head snapped up.

"But of course. So, where do I start?"

"_Asmodin_." The tree answered in a deep, throaty rasp. "_Lust awaits you there. Be careful._"

Elluka laughed a empty laugh that lacked all and any traces of humour, and sneered at the tree.

"Are you worrying about me, Eldoh?" She asked in a mocking tone, tossing her hair back and smirking. "My, my. You must be growing senile in your old age!"

The tree gave not reply; just gestured with his huge, round eyes. Get going, his expression seemed to command, and Elluka obeyed, inclining her head in a little nod which should have held respect, but offered nothing but mocking. Then she turned on heel and strolled back into the forest with the golden sunlight of mid-morning setting her path alight, and her hair and veil whipped with her abrupt movements. She left the elderly tree guardian to drift back into his year-long slumbers; and as she travelled further and further into the forest, her smirk faded away, and was replaced by a sorrowful expression.

_Lu li la..._

There came a soft, musical sigh on the wind, and Elluka smiled faintly. It was the twins, she guessed, singing to comfort themselves and the world they had undoubtedly thrown into chaos; offering their gentle support. The calming melody followed her through the forest, even as the light began to retreat, and the silvery moon took centre-stage.

_Lu li la...lu li la...lu li la..._

The wheel was turning; things had been set into motion.

The mansion of one of the many Asmodin Dukes towered above Elluka like a sky scraper, a sickly shade of black-purple, outlined by a blackened sky void of stars, and yet, even with this daunting task leering right before her, all Elluka could think about was the twin's magical tune.

_Lu li la...lu li la...lu li la...lu li la...lu li la...lu li la..._

* * *

><p><strong>EDIT :: Corrected <em>Greed, also in the country of Lucifenia <em>to _Greed, also in the country of Levitana._ I didn't check the spelling for the author notes, so they might be spelt wrong down here.**

**OLD A/N ::**

**Heheh, SOOOO much shorter. Very, very short, in fact, but this wasn't supposed to be a long chapter. And so ends the first arc! Now to write Lust!**

**Also, I just love the 'Lu Li La' Len and Rin sing at the end. It's such a beautiful sound.**

**: CHARACTERS :**

**_Adam Moonlit_: KAITO**

**_Eve Moonlit_: Hatsune Miku**

**_Hansel Moonlit_: Kagamine Len**

**_Gretel Moonlit_: Kagamine Rin**

**_Bear/dead mother_: MEIKO**

**_Elluka Clockwork_: Megurine Luka**


	4. The Madness of Duke Venomania

_~ Evil Kingdoms ~_

:: Luxuria [ Lust]

**The Madness of Duke Venomania**

Duke Sateriajis Venomania watched with an alluring smile plastered to his pale face as the red woman - he had not bothered to learn her name - glided towards him in a dreamy trance, her scarlet eyes glazed over in a fog of almost drug-like happiness; her lips curled and parted ever so slightly in an adoring, lustful smile that showed off her ruby-red lip stick and her row of perfectly shaped teeth, white as snow. Sateriajis' expression did not change as he took her hand and, with a sharp, forceful jerk, pulled her into his chest, and snaked his arms around her, trapping her against his torso.

"Lord Venomania..." The woman murmured, her soft voice muffled by the folds of his noblemen jacket.

"Hush, my love," Sateriajis breathed in a silky voice that sent quivers of anticipation rippling down the woman's spine. "you needn't speak. You need only enjoy yourself."

Sateriajis' fingered the white string that held the back of her dress together - criss-crossing over her back in order to stop the crimson fabric from falling open and exposing her bare back to the world - and grinned sadistically as the woman snuggled closer, silently encouraging him.

Ah...

He _loved_ this...

She was his - completely and wholly his - and no matter how hard her subconscious struggled, it would never break free of his lustful spell, and she would forever be his woman, locked away in a prison of her lust's own making. This power the demon had given him, the ability to capture women's hearts with a single glance - his purple eyes melting their protective barriers and beckoning them closer, like bees to a flower - made him feel like a king, made him feel as though the entire world was just a glinting bead rolling around in the palm of his hand.

Ah...

He _loved_ this...

"Come, my love..." He whispered, steering her towards the bed, upon which sheets as purple as his hair were neatly spread. He sat her down on the bed, gracefully, delicately, as though concerned she may shatter if handled too roughly, and, taking her chin and gently lifting her head, gazed lovingly into her eyes. "...let us begin."

The actions that followed gushed by in a bellowing wind of gasping, screaming and clawing; of clothing ripped away from tender flesh and thrown carelessly across the room; of blood and sweat mixing together to create purple.

Once the wicked, lustful deed was done, Sateriajis stood tall and bare - his skin glowing an ominous shade of grey-purple in the silvery moonlight that slipped in through the large, glittering windows - and he looked down at his woman with a victorious smirk. She was naked, but she had pulled the bed sheets up in a feeble attempt to hid her her creamy skin - slick with sweat - from view; the sheet twisted around the very tops of her thighs and wrapped about her torso, successfully protecting her breasts from Sateriajis' prying eyes, much to his disappointment. He glanced at her face, and saw she was sleeping, her body drained to the point where she had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

Sateriajis dressed quickly, licking some purple slime off his arm, and strolled into a separate room - the door hidden carefully in the shadows his bed cast - where a dozen or more other women awaited his arrival. They all squealed with delight upon sighting his tall form stride into the room, and flocked around him, giggling and smiling and blushing as his eyes passed over them. He had dressed them all in the same skimpy attire; simple bed sheets of a faded, milky colour that stopped not even half way down their thighs, and exposed much of their breasts and legs.

He cracked a smile of false warmth as he passed them, and they fanned themselves as all the heat in their bodies rushed to their round, smooth cheeks.

Sateriajis ignored them. They were nothing more then toys - necessary only to satisfy his thirst for female flesh. He knew none of their names - except for two, a childhood friend of his, and a mare named Josephine who had given him quite the wild ride on his first night possessing the sin Lust - and did not plan to learn any of them. They were all unimportant pawns, expendable and weak - there was only one he truly cared about, and that was his precious queen.

He soon found the woman he sought, and a true, genuine smile graced his lips.

"Gumina."

Gumina Glassred smiled warmly as Sateriajis addressed her, and ignored the glares of bitter resentment and disappointment from his other "lovers" as she pranced forward, practically skipping with merriment. Her eyes twinkled and her cheeks glowed with a rosy light of their own making.

Sateriajis stared at her.

Gumina was beautiful. So, so _beautiful_. Her skin was so smooth, so flawless, and though her body was slender, her breasts were full and her curves were defined. Her eyes were large and a brilliant shade of emerald green that matched her wavy, silky hair, currently strung back in an elaborate show of loops and curls.

Her gaze was adoring - and so obedient. She would do whatever asked of her...and to think, Sateriajis pondered with a slight smirk, that Gumina had teased him mercilessly as a child.

_"Freak!" The seven-year old Glassred girl shouted viciously, cackling along with the other children as they threw their heads back and shrieked with laughter. _

_The Venomania boy wrapped his arms tighter about his shoulders and hung his head low, so his purple bangs hid the tears swelling in his eyes._

_"No-one will ever love you!" Gumina squealed._

_Sateriajis gasped; then squeezed his arms, so his nails dug into his skin._

_**Not even you**, he thought, **Gumina...?**_

He gently stroked her cheek, and then moved her closer, into his warm embrace; Gumina smiled dreamily the whole time. Her smile faded only when Sateriajis pressed her lips to his and her lips curled to meet his. Sateriajis deepened the kiss, and he shivered as their tongues touched, and their saliva churned together

"Is there something you need, my master?" Gumina purred after the kiss was broken and Sateriajis straightened, strangely flustered. He did this sort of thing everyday, with all these seductive women, but only Miss Gumina Glassred could make his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Yes. I want you to come and help me burn my old portraits; they are an eye sore."

"Oh?" Gumina looked mildly offended by his request - removing paintings was a duty fit for a servant, after all - but then she remembered he was asking her and _only_ her; the other women no longer existed in his mind, only she and their task.

She smirked.

"Okay. Anything for you, my master."

They departed from the room with their fingers intertwined; and Sateriajis' purple eyes never strayed from Gumina's swaying hips, or her pink lips, or her bouncing green locks. He did not look away even as they passed the naked lady blinking herself back into reality on his bed; upon seeing them, she let out a wail of despair and made to chase them, but Mikulia Greonio dashed out of the spare room and caught her arm before she could move, and slowly shook her head, so her puffy turquoise twin-tails bounced by her sides.

Meilis Belzenia, 3rd Princess of Belzenia, burst into tears of anguish.

Mikulia placed a comforting hand on Meilis' arched back; she had, after all, shed those exact same tears already, and completely understood the shamed princess' dilemma.

Out in the hall, Sateriajis stared icily up at his old portraits. In those paintings, he was a lifeless, empty shell of a man; his eyes were blank and his sad frown seemed etched into his very features.

But that man was dead and gone, replaced with a king as the very hight of his reign; his head held high and his eyes bright with a smug, cocky pride.

"Remove all these," Sateriajis gestured to several paintings on the right side of the hall, hung between pictures of men that, even in oil form, carried a cold air of absolute authority. Only _his_ paintings gave off the impression of a meek and powerless Duke.

Gumina did as ordered, and hastily began the process of removing the terrible portraits. Sateriajis watched her for a time - smirking whenever he caught sight of what the dress tried and failed to hide - then got to work on the left wall.

His parents had loved to have portraits of their son painted, despite his lack of a proper build whilst growing and his complete and shameful lack of strength. There was a picture of almost every year of his miserable life; and with each passing year, his face grew longer, narrower, and quite obviously sadder - that lifeless, haunting fog slowly enveloping his entire frame - as the bullying from the fellow aristocrat children intensified.

At one point, Sateriajis had even feared for his life.

Sonika Sonic - now a member of his harem - had been a particularly cruel tormentor of his and had commanded a battalion of boys who would have thrown themselves off a cliff at her order. During one of her daily torture sessions, Sateriajis decided to give her a taste of her own medicine, and pushed her so forcefully that she'd fallen right on her round backside. With an enraged screech, she'd ordered the hounds upon him, and if it hadn't been for a servant's timely intervention, Sateriajis was quite certain those boys would have beaten him to death.

But that was all in the past now; said boys were long gone, all exiled by Sateriajis for "treason", and Sonika Sonic was his sex toy.

Ah, sweet revenge.

One by one, they threw the paintings into the already burning fire place; with which new piece of kindling, the fire gave off a mighty roar and flared high, momentarily filling the room with a fiery orange glow, before dying back down with a satisfied crackling hiss.

Sateriajis watched calmly as his face shrivelled and blackened and folded in on itself before his every eyes. Those empty, pathetic expression were so easily devoured by the ravenous flames of his fire place; in less then ten minutes, all traces of his past weakness were gone forever.

"The deed is done, my Lord-" Gumina had barely uttered the words before Sateriajis suddenly whipped his arms around her and kissed her full on the lips. Gumina blinked in shock; then melted into his arms and kissed him back with the same passionate enthusiasm.

"Come to my chambers," Sateriajis breathed, his breath hot and eager on her face. "we must celebrate."

"Yes," Gumina hissed softly, licking her lips hungrily. She gave his tie a sharp tug, and wrenched it free of his neck. "my lord."

000

"_You are having difficulty, I presume._"

Elluka Clockwork did not respond to the old tree's jeer; she just huffed irritably and continued her needle work, carefully threading the thin strip of metal in and out of the clothe in a wave-like motion. The mirror propped up beside the counter shimmered faintly as the Eldoh Tree shifted his position, peering down at her hands as they gracefully moved across the fabric.

"_Surely, you do not mean to ignore me, dear Elluka?_"

"And surely you do not meant to mock me, dear Eldoh?" Elluka snarled back.

The old tree chuckled; a deep, booming sound that rumbling from deep within his ancient trunk.

"_Your temper as not improved at all over the last hundred years, Elluka._" He remarked.

Elluka rolled her eyes.

"_Tell me what troubles you._"

"Lust." She admitted with a growl, and, abruptly, she stood and clenched her hands into shaking fits. She glared at the tailor shop in which she worked, a spacious room with clean walls that shone dully with polish, and the thousand different pieces of clothe that had been thrown haphazardly about the room in one of her many fits of rage, and the counter which stood proud and tall at the front of the shop, all new and fancy, with the circular, shimmering golden mirror propped up on its surface, through which the old tree calmly observed her with slightly troubled eyes.

Elluka was seriously beginning to _loathe_ Asmodin and all who dwelt within it. She hated working in this damned tailor shop, and bristled with rage whenever she thought about the fact she could not save the sweet and kind Lukana Octa from the Duke's love spell. Lukana had been as kind as to let Elluka sleep in her bed and work in her shop; and Elluka had failed miserably to repay the woman's generosity.

"_Lust? The sin?_"

"What _else?_" Elluka cried in furious exasperation. "I cannot get close to that damned Duke! If I so much as glance at him, I'll be taken over by the sin. I'll become his toy!" At this point, Elluka really wanted to pull her hair out. She started to pace, her feet thumping loudly against the floorboards; they groaned in protest, but she paid them not mind. "None of my spells will work against an ability like that...sure, I could make myself invisible for a time, but that wouldn't stop _me _from seeing _him. _And even if I hindered his sight useless, I'd still have to _look_ at him, and I'd be taken over...And I can't send anyone to get it for me. If I send a woman, she'll be taken over, and if I sent a man, he'll be sent away. Men aren't permitted to enter his freaking mansion!"

"_Sounds like you're in quite a fix._" The tree hummed thoughtfully. After a silent moment of contemplation over her predicament, he blinked wearily. "_Perhaps you should not do anything after all, Elluka._"

"What?" Elluka's sharp, blue eyes snapped to the mirror, in which Eldoh's sunken eyes were tracking her as she paced. They were a grime, ghastly shade of dull green and wisdom seemed to swirl as a visible mist in their depths, a feature which Elluka had always found slightly unnerving.

"_You have told me that Duke Venomania is collecting women from all across Asmodin - and beyond, if I remember correctly._" The tree explained sagely. "_All these women; daughters, wives. There are bound to be some angry men. Perhaps you should wait until they strike, and take the sin while Duke Venomania is at his weakest._"

"So, basically, you're telling me to sit around and do nothing for the next...well, who knows how long?" Elluka summarized dryly.

"_Basically_."

"...Well, isn't that just _grand_."

"_Don't act so gloomy. You hate working. Anyway, I have something else I needed to speak with you about. The twins-_"

_Cling-cling_

Elluka jumped in surprise as the sound of clinking bells reached her ears, announcing the entrance of a money-carrying customer, and she whipped to the counter, pasting a smile of false cheer to her face as she went. She flipped the mirror over, so the wrinkly bark face of Eldoh vanished from view.

"Welcome!" Elluka chimed.

The customer was a man in his early twenties, and a good looking one at that. His shoulders were broad and his arms were muscular, but not to the point where he resembled a walking tree with several trunks. His attire was that of a peasant; a simple, baggy white shirt that hung off his frame, and standard issue pants of a muddy colour, complete with a leather belt - from which hung a short, glinting knife. He was very clean for a commoner; there was not a speck of dust on him, and he carried the air of unchallenged authority and noble confidence, not the humble aura of simple field worker. His hair was smooth and a deep shade of blue; his eyes were the same colour, though they appeared darker then they should have. There was a cold, yet sizzling sort of emotion smouldering in their depths like blue flames.

Elluka resisted the urge to raise an eye-brow.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"I would like you to tailor a dress to these measurements," the youth explained as he placed a rolled up piece of parchment, tied with a blue ribbon, on the counter. He dropped a brown money pouch beside it. "There are fifteen _ruble * _in there."

Elluka's eyes popped open. "Fifteen _ruble_? That is much more then you need pay, sir-"

"I want the dress to be fit for a queen." The man interrupted, brushing away her protests with a mere flick of his hand. "Lots of frills and layers - and expensive materials. A dress made for a beautiful woman of high status."

"Hmm..." Elluka humbled thoughtfully, tapping her chin and genuinely thinking over his mysterious intentions. A simple, obvious one would be he was hoping to impress a "lady friend" with pretty gowns and soft material; but that seemed unlikely, seeing as the Duke had them all wrapped around his lustful fingers. A present for a woman overseas, perhaps? False evidence to impress some boys at the bar? Or...

Or could he be -

Elluka smirked.

"I'll have it ready within three days, sir." She announced boldly, causing the man to start and openly gap at her.

"That won't nearly be enough time to -"

"Sir, I know what I'm doing." Elluka assured him. Really, she did; though she had very little skill in actually threading the clothes together _herself_, she knew enough spells to have the dress dancing the waltz by night fall. In fact, with a simple twitch of her nose she could have completed the project within the hour, but that was far beyond the capabilities of a regular humans - even for Lukana, and she was quite an amazing tailor - and would only rouse suspicion. The last thing Elluka needed was be to trailed for witch craft. _Again_.

The man still looked doubtful, but as he knew nothing of the craft, he had no right to judge. So, shrugging away his worries, he agreed to her terms with a slight nod.

"I'll return to collect the dress in three days, then." He decided. "Please have it ready by then."

"Of course. Now, please write your name on this piece of paper..."

Elluka hurried through the process of getting his name and address. In fact, she skipped quite a lot of what should have been written down; Lukana was not one to so easily trust a customer - even though she had shown pleasant hospitality to Elluka - especially one with such obvious fighting ability. She had been robbed before and did not wish to repeat the process, and so had each customer write down their residential and some background details.

But Elluka cared for none of that foolish paranoia. She cared only for the man's name, and hastily ushered him from the shop once she had it. As the door clicked shut with a musical chime, she stared into the paper, and memorized the youth's title.

_Kachess Crim_

Elluka laughed aloud.

This boy was such an idiot!

"_You had better not be laughing at me,_" Came the muffled grumble of the Eldoh Tree. Elluka giggled, and stood the mirror back up. After a moment of filtering in and out of view, the great tree's frame flickered back into focus; his "eye brows" were furrowed with annoyance.

"I'm not laughing at you, my dear." Elluka promised him. "I am laughing at this Kachess boy. He thinks that the commoners are idiots, but they aren't. He is clearly an aristocrat. His name - for heaven's sake - quite clearly states that."

"_What is his name?_"

"Kachess Crim."

"_Crim? I know that name. An aristocrat family from Marlon. A handsome youth, yes? He proposed to Meilis Belzenia about a mouth before the Duke began gathering women. She accepted. They were going to get married._"

"He scoured himself a queen, hmm? What a lucky chap." She snickered. Then she gasped. "Oh, Eldoh. What was it you were talking about..? Before Mr. Crim interrupted us?"

"_Hmm? Oh, yes. The twins - Hansel and Gretel - they've disappeared._"

Elluka's eyes flashed. "Disappeared? They left the forest?"

"_No. I believe they were taken. A strange woman entered the forest about two days before they suddenly disappeared. I have attempted to contact them through the wind, but they believe it to be tainted with the sin of Sloth and do not respond to my calls._"

Elluka frowned. She did not like the sound of this ominous little story.

"Did you ever see the woman?"

"_No. I only know what the Wind as told me._"

Her frown deepened, and Elluka thought back, back to the day she'd heard those lovely blonde twins singing that magically melody as she had stood stock-still and stony-faced beneath the towering Duke's mansion, so many years ago. Even though so much time had passed, Elluka still remembered the melody perfectly, could still hear the enchanting sounds as though the twins were singing right beside her...

Elluka was not the kind of woman to care for another. She lived in her own world, isolated from society; she is immortal, after all - a burn against the earth that would never heal, never fade. Never die.

So it surprised her a little when she realized she was actually _worried_ about Hansel and Gretel.

"_Elluka?_"

The sound of her name brought Elluka crashing about into reality, and she realized she had not spoken for several minutes. Regaining her composure, she nodded to the tree and gripped the gold edge. The Eldoh narrowed his large, round eyes, but Elluka could not tell whether her movements angered him or he was simply attempting to decipher her motives behind them. But, frankly put, Elluka did not care.

"Thank you for telling me this, Eldoh. I think that's enough for today. Talk to you again in a hundred years, 'kay?"

"_Elluka.._" The tree began in his horse, harsh voice, but Elluka slapped the mirror down and cut him off mid-speech. Unlike before, where she simply left him glaring at the counter, Elluka tapped her sharp nail against the back, and _poof!_ The mirror vanished in a puff of cherry-pink smoke, that instantly materialized into the air.

Elluka stared at the spot the mirror had sat for some several minutes, pondering over what the guardian tree had told her - the strange woman, the twins' fate - before she suddenly recalled the fancy dress she was supposed to tailor. Remembering the handsome, grime-free face of Kachess Crim brought a sick, sadistic smirk to her face.

She sprung away from the counter, and raised her hands, smiling smugly down at her materials. She clapped her hands, and, as one, they leapt into the air and swirled around her, as though caught on some invisible wind; behind her, the door's lock clicked shut with a hollow _snap_, and the OPEN sign flipped over, so it now read CLOSED.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, time to get to work!"

000

_"Freak! Freak! Freak! Freak!"_

_The same word. Chanted over and over and over. It rung in his ears like some sort of siren, and, in a gush of despair, his will broke, and a scream escaped his dry lips. Tears cascaded down his face in wild rivers that zig-zagged and criss-crossed over his cheeks and splattered audibly against the dusty street. _

_"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"_

_"Freak! Freak! Freak! Freak!"_

_The pack boomed with laughter, and the boy wailed, and curled in on himself, shuddering violently and whimpering in a broken, trembling little voice. Then the head wolf leaned forward, and her green eyes glinted like the edge of a blade, carving trenches into his heart with every word that seeped from between her gorgeous pink lips._

_"No one will ever love you, Sateriajis. Especially not **me**."_

"Duke Venomania?"

Sateriajis jerked out of his dream with a gasp, and his eyes blazed like hot coals as he snapped his head up and glared harshly at the girl standing a few feet away, trembling with fright. She was one of those damned aristocrat children, wasn't she? She was hear to mock his abnormal hair and eye colour, wasn't she? She was -

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait, wait...

Sateriajis took a deep breath, and closed his eyes for a moment, flushing all those dark thoughts from his mind. He was an adult now, not that weak, feeble child he had been - he was a king who ruled his kingdom with an iron fist, and all the women loved him, and all the men despised him, and all the horses were fun to ride. Those girls couldn't mock him anymore, and those boys couldn't shove him around anymore.

He opened his eyes, and saw not some evil aristocrat child, but one of his lovers: Rindo Blume, clad in the same revealing attire as the other women, with her blonde hair held back with a floppy white bow, and her big, innocent blue eyes wide with concern and fear. Rindo was only fourteen years old - clearly under-aged - but age did not matter to Sateriajis. Hell, _species_ did not matter. He was not going to suppress his sexual urges just because she was a _child. _

"Rindo," he breathed, smiling, and the young girl visibly relaxed. "what is it? I did not call for you tonight."

Hurt flickered in her eyes, but Rindo carried on, unfazed.

"You have a visitor, my lord." She informed him adoringly.

Sateriajis blinked in surprise. "A visitor? Who?"

"A _woman_, my lord." Rindo spat out the word "woman" like it was a curse, and her eyes flared with envy. Sateriajis took silent pleasure in her envy, smirking a little as she gritted her perfect white teeth and balled her tiny, delicate hands into fists. She didn't look all that frightening; in fact, if anything, she looked absolutely adorable.

"I see. Thank you, Rindo." Sateriajis stood and ruffled Rindo's golden locks, earning himself an ecstatic smile and a pair of shinning blue eyes. She acted as though God was praising her actions. "I'll come play with you once I've seen this woman. Please, call the woman and then return to the others."

Rindo grinned, and literally danced out of the room, unable to contain her excitement. Sateriajis imagined her bragging about his praise to the other women - who would, undoubtedly, burn pink with jealousy - and chuckled.

After a few minutes, Rindo led the woman into his study, then twirled away, but not before winking in his direction. Sateriajis chuckled again, then turned to his visitor, who immediately locked eyes with him. They were the most beautiful shade of blue Sateriajis had ever seen, made more beautiful still by the way the light of the moon danced in their sapphire depths, causing layers of sky-blue and aqua and navy to flicker into life.

They widened ever so slightly as his purple orbs bore into her's.

Sateriajis smiled. He had her.

He did not recognize the woman, but she appeared around his age. She was rather tall, with shoulders a little board for his tastes, but her face was narrow and attractive, with those gorgeous blue eyes and an alluring, devious smile. Her dress was magnificent; layers of blue and white waved masterfully together to create a stunning piece of feathery art that rippled and fluttered with her careful, timid movements. Her luscious golden curls cascaded down her back in a waterfall of silky waves, and framed her face in elegant spirals.

Sateriajis extended his hand towards her in a beckoning motion, and the woman obeyed, gazing adoringly, lovingly into his eyes.

"Now," Sateriajis purred. "shall we dance?"

The woman smiled shyly, and Sateriajis grinned back, as he swiftly pulled her into a strong embrace, holding her tightly against his broad chest. He gently stroked her hair, tangling the shimmering threads about his gloved fingers, and placed his other hand in the small of her back, and deeply inhaled. She smelled of the salty sea and of blue roses -

And suddenly a burning, roaring pain like fire erupted in his chest, and with a harsh shove the woman smacked him away; the flames seared at his skin - clawing and ripping and tearing at his rib cage, as though attempting to rip him apart from the inside - and Sateriajis' breath caught in his throat as something hot and red and salty shot up into his mouth and seeped between his frozen lips. He looked down - eyed wide as saucers - and saw the blood dye his chest.

The woman laughed, and it was a deep, masculine laugh that could not possible belong to a member of the female gender. "Her" hand whipped up in a smooth, lightning-fast motion, and "she" tore the golden locks from her head to reveal short, silky, blue waves that swayed as one mass with "her" movements.

Sateriajis staggered, and fell to his knees, gasping for breath and clawing at his chest, desperately trying to hinder - or completely stop - the flow of blood.

A man!

And in his hand - held high above his head like some sort of trophy - was -

- a bloody knife.

Crimson liquid dripped steadily from the blade, falling slowly - oh so slowly - to the ground, where they exploded into puddles of red.

"Don't bother to try and save yourself, demon," Kachess Grim hissed venomously, his eyes dark with disgust as he watched Sateriajis roughly press his trembling hands against the wound, blood gushing monstrously between his fingers. "There is poison on this blade. You will be dead within minutes."

Sateriajis felt something jolt inside him, and a horrific wave of pain smashed again him, and he hunched over with a ragged gasp. Sweat and blood mixed together to create purple, and it oozed across his glove and splattered against the marble floor.

Then there was a scream, but Sateriajis couldn't tell who was screaming or from which direction the shrill sound originated; and suddenly the world spun, and the chains binding the women shattered like broken glass, and there was the thunderous sound of thumping, frantic footfalls. Women charged past him, scrambling and scampering and stumbling towards the double doors in a desperate flight for freedom; and Meilis Belzenia flung herself at Kachess, and, instantly, he was hugging her close, burying his face in her hazel hair. And then they, too, were fleeing, along with all the women.

Sateriajis' arts were broken, and the spell of lust no longer held them captive, and the prison gates had swung open, granting them sweet, blissful release.

Sateriajis lay on the floor of his "castle", writhing in agony and bleeding copiously, watching in utter terror as the purple-red pool stretched further and further, so that his terrified reflection stared pleadingly back at him, begging with his eyes for a saviour, for something, for life -

Another woman - the last one remaining - shot past him in a blur of pale purple and grass-green, but then she stopped, one hand resting gently against the door's frame, and she looked right at _him_, without the foggy screen of lust obscuring her vision. Her expression was unreadable - her incredible green eyes void of emotion, void of judgement - and she simply observed in cool indifference as his life rapidly ebbed away before her very eyes.

Then she turned on heel and stalked off, leaving him to his destined fate.

"W-wait.." Sateriajis croaked, reaching out, willing his queen to return to his side, even as her slender figure strode off into the distance. "I haven't told you that I love you yet!"

But Gumina Glassred was gone, and his confession went unheard.

Sateriajis Venomania had only a moment to regret his previous actions before the black shark of death dragged him under, into the icy, bottomless sea, and his heart gave one last, despairing thump. His head fell against the floor with a harsh, wet _slap_, and there it lay, never to move again.

000

Lukana Octa felt dirty. It was as though spiders were crawling all over her smooth and soft skin and slicing and tearing at her flesh, leaving it uncomfortably hot and trembling with fright. The disgusting after taste of a man's mouth sizzled on her tongue, on her teeth and on her skin, and she could feel his hands grasping her thighs and her caressing her chest and his nails biting into her breasts and she could hear his voice, sickly sweet and dripping with inhumane lust, whispering coldly in her ear and she hated it, she _hated it_ -

Lukana stumbled to a stop and collapsed against a wall of cold, grey stone, and slowly slid down onto the cool grass that swayed and shifted eerily underfoot, and she hung her head and began to sob.

Sateriajis Venomania - she couldn't believe she had actually fallen in love with such a sick, sick man. It _could not _be true - but she could see him, hear him, and she could feel him as he heartlessly felt _her_, his greedy eyes searching her body and stripping away her clothing with hands colder then ice -

_Crunch_

Lukana's head whipped up.

"Who's there?" She demanded of the lifelessness night. All around her, darkness pressed against the earth, and trees whispered as the a cool and whistling breeze blew, and above her stars glinted faintly in the inky distance of the night sky, and a half-moon glowed a ghastly silver-green.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence - heavy, crushing silence, that weighed almost bodily against Lukana's shaking shoulders and sent her heart thundering off at a hundred miles an hour - and then -

"Elluka!" Lukana gasped in relief as the blonde, blue-eyed beauty strode out of the darkness, and the shadows themselves seemed to creep back, allowing the watery moonlight to illuminate her path.

"Oh, Elluka. I'm so glad to see you." Lukana gushed as Elluka knelt before the terrified tailor and ran her slender fingers through Lukana's cherry-pink hair. "I-I was so frightened. I though for a moment you were that wicked Venomania man -"

And abruptly Lukana couldn't speak as something boiling hot and yet icy cold surged through her mind and suddenly she was flying higher higher higher and then she was falling, falling through a dense and terrible darkness that curled around her like uncaring fingers and then -

_What -_

Elluka stood, and clicked her fingers. Instantly, a mirror materialized out of the black nothingness, and floated towards the sorceress so she could examine her reflection.

The woman who stared back at her, lips curled upwards in a sinister little smirk, was not Elluka Clockwork, but a pink-haired, blue-eyed woman who once worked tirelessly in a small tailor shop. Her new blue eyes were of a lighter shade and shone like stars in the lightless world of night, and her skin was a touch paler, and her hair was a shorter, but noticeably thicker, and cascaded down her back in a waterfall of smooth, silky waves.

Lukana Octa lay unconscious on the ground, sleeping soundly, and Elluka smiled softly - a genuine smile that felt alien on her pale pink lips.

"Sorry, Lukana, but I'll be borrowing your appearance for the time being."

000

Elluka blinked down at the Duke's lifelessly body, sprawled out at her feet like some oversized rag doll, his hand extended out before him, and his teary eyes, even in death, sending a pleading message to all who glanced at him, to all who met his begging gaze; he looked so helpless, so fragile, like a lost child.

Perhaps he had never truly grown up, contradictory to what he had liked to believe.

Elluka knelt down and snatched up the sword fastened to his belt, and held it up to the light. A rose of pale purple was twisted about the hilt, glimmering and glistened like diamonds.

Elluka licked her lips, then plucked the flower from the hilt, and attached the sword to her own waist. She placed the rose in her palm and watched the delicate petals quiver with anticipation, relishing in the feel of her soft, female skin.

Elluka huffed.

"Pervert."

000

Gumina Glassred returned home with her head held high and her pride held securely by her chest.

She expected frowns of disappointment from her parents and for her former friends to shun and ignore her existence, but what she received was the exact opposite - a sobbing mother who flung her arms about her daughter's neck, and a father who blinked back tears and thanked the heavens for returning his precious flower, and a swarm of old friends and relatives who fussed endlessly over her well-being and were constantly cursing the lustful bastard who snatched her away from them.

Gumina Glassred listened and smiled and laughed and gossiped and chatted. She did everything that was expected of her.

But she couldn't help but feel...off.

Sateriajis Venomania had once been her best friend. In fact, at one strange, she had stood up for the curious boy and sneered at Sonika Sonic and her gaggle of geese - or boys, whatever - and protected him from their blood-thirsty punches and hostile glares.

She couldn't remember, exactly, what tore them apart. It seemed to Gumina that it simply happened one day - her love and trust towards Sateriajis suddenly became hate and distaste, and from that point on she was a willing participant in the ruthless bullying of the poor, purple-haired boy.

_I drove him to do this. All those women were hurt because I -...I..._

As the years passed, Gumina became a politician who thoroughly supported women's rights. She fought viciously for equality, boldly claiming that the vast majority of men considered themselves superior to women and willingly refused them an education and other such basic human rights because of it.

She was quite successful. Everyone adored her, men and women both.

But Gumina Glassred always felt...off.

_Sateriajis..._

* * *

><p><em>~ Evil Kingdoms ~<em>

[ BONUS TRACK ]

_**Flower of the Plateau**_

Mikulia Greonio loved her new home, a humble little town called Alu in the highlands near Marigold Plateau, and the people of Alu adored her and her beauty and her enchanting singing voice that echoed sweetly, softly, over the hills, and danced in the winds, and whispered amongst the trees and the flowers.

They called her the Flower of the Plateau, because of her kindness and her good-looks and her incredible singing voice. Amused by the affectionate name, Mikulia, with the generous assistance of some locals, opened up a flower shop, and became a florist. Her flowers were always large and fragrant and vivid in colour - the love the town held for her only grew.

_But best of all - no body knows my secret..._

Two years after Mikulia moved to Alu, a handsome youth from a wealthy family appeared and asked for her opinion on what flowers he should buy his darling mother's birthday. Her sweet voice stuck his heart like a lightning bolt, and within a week, he was head over heels in love, and he asked Mikulia for her hand in marriage.

Mikulia had never been so happy in her entire life. Her eyes gleamed, and she could not stop smiling, and she danced and sung in the streets, and gave out free flowers to all the giggling little girls and blushing little boys who gathered in the streets to hear her sing.

_But then, the day before out engagement, a vile man appeared, a vile man I once knew and he smirked cruelly at me and said he knew my little secret and that he'd tell everyone and that everything I had worked so hard for would shatter and splinter like broken glass -_

_But it doesn't mind me because I'm the flower of the plateau and a flower must never be unsightly no never never never -_

After Mikulia married, the man quite suddenly vanished, and the town was rather pleased. The man had stunk of a horse's backside and spoke without respect and shamelessly eyed young women, and even some young boys!

Mikulia was glad. The man was gone. He could no longer hurt anyone, and so life resumed. She was happily married, and truly enjoyed her work. She adored her little flower shop and so did her husband, and -

_But then a boy appeared, a cute little boy with white hair and two-toned eyes, and he said he was looking for his mother, a pretty prostitute who abandoned him as an infant because she was but a teenager, barely twelve years old, when she had him and he really wanted to see her and tell her that he'd forgiven her but no no no I couldn't let this happen because he knows my SECRET he'll hurt me with my SECRET no no no I am the Flower of the Plateau and A FLOWER MUST NEVER BE UNSIGHTLY -_

A week passed, and the boy vanished. People did worry a bit about him, because the boy had been sweet and considerate despite not being the most talkative of types, but Mikulia assured them that the pleasant little stranger boy was fine, and, like mindless sheep, they believed her kindly and softly spoken words, and life resumed and everything was once again perfect in humble little Alu.

_But no body knows YES no body knows that the vile man and the cute boy are in the bottom of that well yes yes YES they'll stay there forever because I put them there and I made sure they could NEVER EVER EVER EVER leave and my secret will never be revealed because my old client can't talk and my son can't either because I'm the Flower of the Plateau AND_

At the bottom of a dark and dusty well lay the bloodied corpse of a man clad in dirty clothing with a shock of ocean-blue hair and the mangled body of a young boy with snowy white hair and blank, two-toned eyes that stared glassily up at the star-speckled eye above.

Blood splattered the cobble-stone walls, dried and brown and cracking, and oozed between their clenched teeth, and a knife had been mercilessly driven through the throat of the blue-haired man, staining his skin red, and several bullets had torn through the tiny torso of the boy, the innocent little boy who was scarcely ten years old.

They lay in the darkness, forgotten and unloved, with nothing but the glittering stars, so distant and so helpless, for company.

Miles away in her large, lavishly decorated home, wrapped in her silk night gown and a cluster of ruby-red roses proudly blooming beside her bed, Mikulia Greonio glanced out the window at that very sky, and smiled.

_A FLOWER MUST NEVER NEVER **N**E**VE**R N**eVe**R **NeVEr** **BE** **U**n**SIgh**TL**Y** - _

* * *

><p><strong>EDIT :: I changed some things. I added in how Elluka took Lukana's appearance, and what happened to Gumina Glassred after she escaped Sateriajis. The last bit - Flowers of the Plateau - is a new song by Hatsune Miku and is told by Mikulia Greonio, and takes place five years after she escaped Sateriajis. <strong>

**Apparently Mikulia, like many of the characters Miku plays, isn't quite sane. **

**Also, Mikulia was a child prostitute. I didn't actually state that in the story, but, hopefully, everyone caught that it was implied. The vile man was a client of hers who probably came in the hopes of blackmailing her out of some money, while the boy was her son.**

**I made Piko Miku's son because I LOVE HIM. Nuff said.**

**OLD AUTHOUR'S NOTES ::**

**ANGRAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! -!**

**...*cough***

**This was hard to write. I don't know why, but it simply refused to be written. I rewrote it three or more times before I was finally happy with the damn thing. Actually, even now I'm not totally satisfied with it, but it will simply have to do.**

**I swear, if Conchita is this hard to write, _I'll _eat _her_.**

**Thanks so much for the reviews! They made me so happy *-* And sorry for the long wait. I'll try and upload Gluttony faster!**

**As I did before, I proof read it, but, again, it's a long chap. I apologize for any mistakes.**

**Also, before I forgot! Last chapter I wrote this: **_Greed, also in the country of Lucifenia. _**However, Lucifenia was supposed to be** **_Levianta_. Sorry^_^;**

**: CHARACTERS :**

**_Sateriajis Venomania: _Gakupo Kamui **

**_Gumina Glassred: _GUMI**

**_Kachess Crim/Vile Man: _KAITO**

_**Meilis Belzenia: **_**MEIKO**

**_Rindo Blume: _Kagamine Rin**

**_Sonika Sonic:_ Sonika**

**_Mikulia Greonio: _Hatsune Miku**

**_Lukana Octa: _Megurine Luka**

**_Boy (Mikulia's son): _Utatane Piko**

**You can find the complete list of all the women Sateriajis enchanted on VocaloidWiki ^^ I only wrote down the ones I actually included in the story.**

*** _ramble__ is a form of Russian currency. I read on VocaloidWiki that Asmodin is thought to be either a depiction of old Brittan or old Russia, so I chose Russia. _**


	5. Repulsive Food Eater, Conchita

_~ Evil Kingdoms ~_

:: Gula [ Gluttony ]

**Repulsive Food Eater, Conchita**

_The girl's hands trembled violently, and her throat seared agonizingly, and her eyes streamed silvery tears, and down her chin gushed a waterfall of various liquids - fats and juices - and before her towered a collum of foods - chicken and pork and fruits and vegetables and deserts - all piled upon a glistened golden plate -_

_"Eat! Eat it all! Don't leave a crumb behind!"_

_She ate and she ate and she ate -_

_Shoving all the delicious foods that suddenly seemed gruesome into her mouth, while her mother stood over her, cackling with her head thrown back -_

_"Eat! Come on, **eat! EATEATEATEATEATEAT - "**_

_Blood trickled down the girl's chin, and collected in a shiny, round wine glass that sat still and glassy on her lap; the blood splattered against the clear sides and burned crimson in the dim, flickering light of the candles -_

_"**EAT, CONCHITA!**"_

000

The table was very, very long, with enough space to squeeze at least sixteen men either side - not including the opposites table heads, who sat at the very ends, peering over their wine glasses at all the guests - and it's vast, polished surface was utterly choked with golden plates upon which were piled the most grotesque and obscure dishes none - and unknown - to man.

At the head of the table sat a gorgeous woman with a head of short, hazel hair, and red eyes that shone like bloody daggers, and an expensive crimson dress with a scarlet rose blooming at her neck. She was smiling ever so slightly, gazing almost lovingly down the large, greasy meal and rich, red pig-blood wine that sat on and beside her golden plate, patiently awaiting for her feasting to begin.

Vanika Conchita was the woman's name.

It was a name to be feared.

"Butler!" Vanika barked, and immediately a blonde boy scampered into view, clad in the standard attire of a Belzenian butler; a crimson coloured vest with a white undershirt, and glossy black pants. His dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a stubby pony tail with a red ribbon, and his blue eyes were dark with fright, and he pointedly avoided meeting his master's hungry gaze.

"A-all hail the great Conchita." Lorencio stammered, bowing.

"Maid!"

At Conchita's call, a girl with similar features to the boy scurried in after him, looking just as - or perhaps more so - terrified as the boy. Her golden hair was slightly longer, though, and her eyes a little wider, a little larger; she wore a maid's dress, complete with red frills and a deep, red bow at her throat. The bow that held her hair back from her eyes was night-black, with the red outline of roses threaded into the glossy material, and her knee-high socks were blood-red.

"A-all hail the great Conchita." Reina whispered, curtseying.

"Read to me what I am about to eat and have eaten." She commanded, licking some slime off her slender fingers. Of course, she had already eaten breakfast, and that had been enough to feed several armies, but Vanika was _still_ hungry.

Lorencio nodded shortly. He could not understand why she was so eager to know what she had just digested - the stuff listed on the menu he held was repulsive and should have killed her where she stood. But he would read it aloud anyway, ignoring his quivering stomach and trembling hands as he did so.

He quickly glanced at his elder twin sister, who was white as a sheet and trembling from head to toe. His heart throbbed painfully at the sight of her fear, and he longed to wrap his arms around her tiny, delicate frame and stroke her hair, murmuring meaningless words of comfort till her tremors ceased, but he couldn't show such brotherly affection in front of Lady Conchita.

"T-Today's Breakfast," He began in a strong, confident voice that _did not_ reflect the horror he felt inside in the lest. "Vegetable juice with sixteen types of weeds, corn flakes filled with iron, consommé soup filled with poison mushrooms, Chef's special salad, servant's special brioche," - his voice trembled a little at that; the thought of Vanika enjoying _his_ cooking made him feel rather sick - "an array of out of season fruits, and coffee that will keep you awake forever (low caffeine)."

Vanika tapped her full, blood-coloured lips, and smirked. She could still taste that delectable brioche on her tongue.

"And for lunch?" She inquired, glancing at Reina, who immediately buried her round face in the menu book she carried.

"F-Fried and r-raw onion salad, with extra onions, Carpaccio with a pink octopus - Queen Style, eggplant grill...without the eggplant, random bread made by the maid" - despite her fear, Reina still twitched - "Chef's Special: French Fry Ice Cream, self made "High potion", McDonald mix." She choked out.

"_Excellent._" Vanika purred, rubbing her hands together, so she acquired the look of someone plotting to take over the world. Then she blinked, and added, almost as an after thought: "Butler, when is the challenge again?"

Vanika was not just some rich noble girl. Vanika Conchita was a might warlord who's hunger was just as strong and unpredictable as her thirst for blood and violence. She often challenged neighbouring warlords in an attempt to batter away the heavy cloud of boardroom that so often descended upon Vanika's castle, and to quench her thirst battle; the need to swing a sword and slice through tender flesh was like drinking or eating or breathing to Vanika - it necessary for her survival.

Lorencio leafed through his menu, hunting for the requested page.

"Two o'clock today, milady." He replied.

Vanika's face paled in horror. "At _two?_ That's a mere three hours away! I won't be able to finish! Who was the complete_ ignoramus _decided the time!"

Lorencio swallowed - hard - and spoke in a tiny voice. "Y-you did, milady."

Vanika suddenly felt very stupid.

"..Oh..." She clicked her tongue irritably. Then she remembered the feast set out before her, and that insane, gluttonous hungry flared in her red eyes, and, slowly, she turned, and all those troublesome thoughts of the rapidly approaching challenge drifted from her mind. Suddenly, all that mattered was the food perched alluringly on her plate.

She grinned.

Lorencio gasped, realizing what was about to beginning, and snatched Reina's hand. They turned on tail and fled just as Vanika threw herself upon the nearest dish, ripping and tearing and devouring everything. Her stomach snarled with hunger, and she dug her sharp, fang-like teeth into the eggplant grill, wrenching it apart with a swift, forceful tug. She wolfed it all down, relishing in the hot, stinging pain it left throbbing in her throat, and licked the plate clean; and then she ate the plate, crunching the shimmering golden slaps it into tiny, bite-sized pieces.

Vanika hurriedly reached for the random bread her maid had baked, and tore it into three huge pieces, all larger then her own two hands. She grabbed the blood wine and took a large sip, filling her mouth with the warm liquid, so that her cheeks puffed out and a small red trail trickled down her face and dripped off her chin, splattering on her expensive red dress. Then she shoved one of the bread pieces into her gob, and chewed thoroughly, mixing blood with the floury batter.

She had to hurry. She had to eat everything - she couldn't even leave a single crumb.

If she did, she'd get punished.

She'd get punished -

Punished -

_Pain seared in her chest -_

_Another punch, delivered from her mother's strong hands -_

_"**I said EAT, swine!**"_

_Screaming; screaming, screaming, screaming, screamingscreaming**screamingscreaming** -_

Vanika didn't want to get punished!

She shovelled some more bread into her mouth, and chewed, crushing the crunchy surface between her molars.

"I must eat!" She cackled. "More and more and more!"

Outside, the twins were huddled together in the hall. They tried not to listen, but the gut-wrenching sounds of Vanika's teeth smacking together with each monstrous bite still reached their ears. They wanted to run, to flee, but they needed to be able to hear if their lady issued any orders. They stood with their fingers intertwined and their heads together, taking comfort from the others' presence, silently dreading the moment when their demonic mistress called them to her side once again.

"I hate this, Lorencio." Reina whispered shakily.

"Me, too," Lorencio murmured back.

"Me, three."

The twins almost jumped through the ceiling, they were so surprised by the third party's sudden arrival. Reina whipped round with a murderous snarl on her face, looking ready to beat the offender to death, but Lorencio lifted her off the ground so she shouldn't charge forward like a bull and run him down.

"Joseph, I've asked you to stop sneaking up on us!" Lorencio squawked, as Reina thrashed in his grip.

Joseph Crim, the fifteenth Chief of Lady Conchita, laughed heartily. Joseph was a young man with a head of ocean-blue hair, and eyes of the same mesmerizing colour. He was the kind of person who smiled and laughed and goofed around quite a bit, though his all-round merriness had dulled some since he started cooking for Vanika. He was wearing his chief's uniform, as always - his long-sleeved shirt and pants and seven-storey hat were all snowy-white and appeared several sizes too large.

"You two are _waaaaaay _to sensitive." Joseph concluded, chuckling at the way Reina's eyes caught fire and Lorencio's eye brow twitched. "And you're way to easy to upset, Reina."

"Shut up and die!" Reina shrieked.

Joseph laughed again, and Lorencio winced as Reina kicked him hard in the shin in an attempt to free herself.

"Wh-what're you doing here, J-Joseph?" He huffed out, blinking back tears. "You're supposed to be preparing t-tomorrow's lunch." Joseph prepared all Vanika's meals in advance so the devil-of-a-woman did not have to wait more then a few fleeting minutes for her food to travel from the kitchen to her golden plate. All Vanika's meals for the day were already cooked and ready long enough the time when she actually ate them arrived.

At Lorencio's question, Joseph's handsome face darkened a touch. When he did not respond immediately, Lorencio furrowed his brow in concern.

"...Pablo?"

"...I've come to ask Lady Conchita for a vacation." Joseph announced.

Silence fell.

Reina stopped flailing around, and fell limp in Lorencio's arms. She gaped at Joseph. Lorencio gaped at Joseph. Neither could believe what he'd just said. Surely, he was joking? Surely, he couldn't _really_ be considering asking that?

But Joseph wasn't joking - his face was stony and determined - and their bewildered stares bounced off his resolve.

Reina was first to recover from the shock; and when she did, she was quick to act, and wriggled out of Lorencio's grip before he could regain proper control over his bodily functions. She strode right up to Joseph and took his hand between her tiny, doll-like palms, shooting him a desperate, pleading look as she did so.

"Don't do it, Joseph!" She hissed. "Remember what happened to Porfiro? She killed him! Just like that! All because he wanted to go home for Christmas. She'll kill you if you ask for a vacation!"

"Reina's right, Joseph!" Lorencio insisted, recovering and hastily adding his own arguments. "Lady Conchita is heartless! She'll murder you without a second thought!"

Joseph smiled sadly, and ruffled their golden hair simultaneously.

"You two should worry more about yourselves." He told them sagely, tapping Reina's nose and flicking Lorencio's forehead. "Lady Conchita _is_ heartless - this isn't a place where children should work."

"Our parents are dead." Lorencio reminded him coldly, and Joseph suppressed a flinch. "Our relatives hate us - they believe the fire was our fault. We have no where else to go."

"You're the only father we have, Joseph." Reina breathed, tears sparkling in her sapphire eyes. "Don't do this. Don't go."

Joseph stared at the twins, his gaze shifting from Reina to Lorencio and back again; and then he sighed heavily, his eyes clouding with sadness.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, gently pushing Reina away. "I can't live in fear of her anymore. I'm asking, and I shall accept the consequences of my actions."

Lorencio opened his mouth to speak, but that commanding, authoritative look in Joseph's eyes killed whatever protests he may have sprouted, and, shaking, Lorencio closed his mouth and stared at the ground. Reina left out a ragged sob, and Lorencio was instantly at her side, curling his arms around her shoulders and threading his fingers through her silky locks.

Joseph watched them for a moment, guilt clawing at his insides as another wretched sob wracked Reina's small frame; then he shook his head, so his blue hair swayed as one, smooth mass, and turned and stalked off, towards the sound of Vanika's animalistic feeding.

Reina and Lorencio were overreacting, he told himself firmly. The previous cook had been a terrible one, who's pathetic skills had not been up to the task of making Vanika's daily meals. It was obvious just who was the superior cook! Vanika owed him this short break, if nothing else.

But, recalling Reina's tears and Lorencio's despairing expression, Joseph began to wonder whether he, too, would be answered by the sharp, silvery blade of Lady Conchita's sword.

He knocked politely on the majestic, oak double-doors, and waited. Vanika was tearing away at her foods ravenously, if the horrific squelches and crashes resounding from within was anything to go by. Pablo frowned slightly. Vanika always ate as though she was on the edge of starvation and needed as much food as she could possibly consume before the day gave way to night, but she seemed more aggressive today.

"Lady Conchita?" Joseph called softly when he was not granted entrance.

There was a moment of silence, during in which Vanika paused and listened. Then Joseph knocked again, and Vanika growled, and reluctantly pushed away her plate.

"Enter."

The door opened with a light squeak, and Joseph strolled in -

- and then he blanched.

Vanika resembled a blood-thirsty vampire from a horror story. The bottle of blood wine had shattered and spilt all over her beautiful dress, but Vanika had paid no mind and continued eating with such furiosity that food had flown across the room. Some particularly sticky pieces clung to the walls, but most simply slid down and flopped against the floor. Vanika herself was covered in a vast range of food scraps - seeds and grease and bones and flesh - with the blood wine coating her face in a sleek layer of glistening red.

_Holy shi-_

"Is there something you need, Joseph?" Vanika spat. She glanced at the clock hanging from the wall, and cringed. Almost half an hour had already gone by! And she had yet to eat dinner!

"I-I..." Joseph's throat was suddenly very dry.

"Spit it out!" Vanika snapped venomously.

"I-I would like to r-request a vacation, milady!" Joseph squeaked. His legs were wobbling beneath him and the whole world suddenly seemed very cold. Lady Conchita was scary enough without all the blood on her face.

Vanika's crimson eyes narrowed.

So, she was being deserted _again?_ And by her fifteenth chief, no less! The man she was forced to trust above all others because of her immense craving for grotesque foods. And he - just like the purple chief before him, and the thirteen others preceding he - was trying to run away and leave her to _starve_.

Her eyes burned with white-hot rage. She would not have it! If she did not eat, she would be punished!

Vanika stomach rumbled in annoyance. It wanted more, much more then this gross stuff she was scuffing down. It wanted something more substantial and meaty and -

- and _fresh_.

A cruel, sadistic idea blossomed in the back of Vanika's mind, and quite rapidly grew, consuming her very being. She smirked heartlessly, and took one enormous step forward, her foot thumping against the floorboards with such force that the goblets upon the table leapt into the air.

"Honestly," She whined, taking a few more thunderous steps forward. With each advancing step, another ounce of colour drained from Joseph's face. "you people are so _useless._"

And Lady Conchita sprang, hands extended like claws, and Joseph screamed in utter terror, and then he was shrieking in agony as her claws gouged out his eyes and tore at his throat and ripped at his internal organs -

- and then all was quite, save for the squelching of flesh between Vanika's teeth.

000

"Today's Dinner ,The Chef's Special Salad, "with" chef, a long pasta - really long, a pile of...um, a mud filled Gallette - Road Roller flavoured,...oh-...soup, a wine that's the colour of blood, hey that IS blood."

Reina shook herself, and cast a helpless glance at Lorencio, who looked as equally as disgusted and horrified as she felt. They were reading over Lady Conchita's dinner list in the hall way, and it was Reina who was to read it out for the forever-hungry warlord, just as Lorencio had read out the breakfast menu earlier. But this list was more gruesome then any they had previous encountered, and the thought of their master actually _eating _this stuff truly terrified the twins.

"T-there are some t-terrible things on this list!" Reina stammered, holding it up and thrusting it into Lorencio's arms. Lorencio's eyes popped wide when he caught sight of the foods Reina had not read aloud, and what _he_ would have to read out. The midnight snacks list was filled with the most grotesque and inhumane dishes Lorencio had ever heard of!

"I can't read this out!" Reina wailed. "It's too horrible!"

"Perhaps," Lorencio muttered darkly. "we should do what Joseph said and just leave."

Reina blinked in surprise, completely taken off guard by Lorencio's sudden suggestion. They had no home to go back to, after all. Everyone they had loved and held dear was dead and gone - reduced to nothing but smouldering ashes among the smoking beams of a burning house or spitting insults whenever they dared to venture too close - and working for Vanika had been the only way for them to survive. Leaving - returning to that world of murderers and bandits and cold-hearted adults - scared Reina awfully...but, when she thought about it seriously, the thought of remaining beside Vanika as a loyal maid was a much more daunting task.

"Yeah.." Reina agreed quietly. "Lady Conchita is just...just too frightening. We should go."

Lorencio smiled reassuringly and took her hand in his, and Reina squeezed back, smiling shyly and blushing like a school girl. They did not hold hands as much as they once had, and it was mildly embarrassing, but Lorencio just chuckled at her flushed cheeks, and Reina pouted, puffing out her cheeks in that way unique to her that made her look so _dang_ adorable.

"Aww~ You're so cute, Reina~" Lorencio cooed, causing Reina's cheeks to burn with embarrassment.

"Y-You shut up, idiot! If you call me cute, then you're calling yourself cute, and that's just smug!"

"Aww, don't get mad~! I don't want my little Reina to cry." Lorencio teased, then yelped as Reina punched him hard in the shoulder.

"Don't tease me!" She barked. "Let's just hurry and go already, before Lady Conchita calls us again!"

"Okay, _okay_-!"

"So you're going to leave me, too, children?"

Lorencio had barely enough time to register the fact someone other then he or his sister had spoken before a pair of bloody hands snaked tight about his neck and plucked him up off the ground without so much as a grunt of effort. His air-ways were blocked, and suddenly he was choking, and the world swam before his eyes; he kicked out weakly and clawed at the hands that restricted his air flow, but his strength was fading quickly -

Suddenly, the pressure of his throat lessened, and air gushed into his lungs. He gasped audibly and lashed out again with his foot, but the shin it crashed against was like iron, and any damage he successfully delivered rebounded off and was received by his_ own _foot. He hissed with pain as his heel began to throb with the frantic beats of his heart.

"Hmm..." Vanika purred, and her bloody tongue trailed over the cool flesh of his ear. Lorencio shivered as something hot and sticky trailed down his neck, and her lips gently brushed against his skin. "...I do wonder, butler boy, what _you_ taste like."

"L-Lorencio!" Reina shrieked, eyes wide with terror, as Vanika nuzzled Lorencio's neck. Her tongue once again found his skin, and then her teeth, blood-stained and glinting like the sharp side of a dagger, and Lorencio whimpered. Vanika was going to kill him - no, more then that, she was going to _eat him!_ And once she was done, she was going to -

- to eat Reina.

The icy tendrils of panic-induced fear gripped Lorencio's heart and he opened his mouth to scream - to warn his sister about the gruesome events about to occur - but Vanika's fangs came crashing down before a single sound could escape them. His mind reeled as an agonizing bolt of sheer pain ripped through his body, searing against the tender flesh of his neck, and blood - crimson, warm and glistening - spurted out from his neck like a fountain, painting the walls and splashing against the floors.

Reina screeched, and tears cascaded freely down her cheeks, and she ran blindly forward, thinking only of Lorencio, and the blood - _his_ blood - that was flying everywhere, painting everything, leaving no space untouched by the glimmering red liquid -

"Reina!" Lorencio gasped, his voice horse and harsh, and Reina stopped, frozen by the sound of his voice.

"_Run away!_"

And then Lorencio was screaming - screaming, screaming and screaming - and Vanika pushed him to the ground, and began her horrific feasting. Her fangs dug trenches into his skin and gobbled down his flesh, his bones -

"Lorencio..." Reina was shuddering violently, crying uncontrollably, but, remembering his final words, Reina did as ordered, and fled from Vanika's castle, leaving her beloved brother to his fate. She did not run faster enough, though, to avoid hearing Vanika's last mocking snicker.

"Hmm..." She hummed, licking the warm blood of her lips. "Spicy."

000

Vanika Conchita was at a loss. She had eaten her chief and butler - but had, unfortunately, allowed that tasty looking maid to escape - and had devoured all the food in the castle! With no chief, there was no food.

But Vanika's stomach did not care for the fact there was no chief. It cared about food and only food, and it's demanding tremors continued with rapidly increasing vigour as Vanika crawled pathetically through her dinning room, chewing absentmindedly on a splinter-riddled slab of wood. Her table, of course, had met the same fate as her servants, and now sat dissolving in her stomach acids. She stumbled about the messy room aimlessly, her mind consumed with thoughts of mouth-watering deserts and stomach-turning courses -

- and then she spied a person.

It was a woman, wearing a scarlet dress and a begging expression. Her eyes were empty, though a hopeful spark flared into life upon sighting Lady Conchita. As Vanika crept forward, the alien woman mirrored her movements, and Vanika raised her hands, reaching for the woman, who's creamy flesh appeared so inviting, so appealing - so _tasty_ - and her stomach growled encouraging, egging her on -

She buried her teeth into the soft, silky flesh of the woman's hand, and she gasped. Delicious! She had never tasted anything so incredible in her entire life! She took a large bite, and the blood was salty and warm on her tongue; but then a horrific burning sensation erupted in her own hand - screaming and bellowing and roaring with a voice of it's very own - but she did not pay it any mind. All Vanika cared about the delectable flesh which melted beautifully in her mouth.

She another bite, and another, and another, and another - until, finally, she had devoured the woman's entire arm. The burning sensation had engulfed her entire body - it seared in her veins and clawed at her chest and screamed in her ears - but Vanika was too happy, too _full _for the first time in her entire life, to care.

"Look, Mama," She whispered. "I ate everything. I didn't even leave a crumb."

And then Vanika Conchita keeled over.

She was dead before she hit the ground.

000

Pyotr tugged his traveller's cloak closer as he and his mysterious company neared the impressive structure that was Vanika Conchita's castle, stroking his horse's broad neck as it shifted uneasily beneath him, as though unnerved by the powerful air of fear and death that the castle gave off. It was an ominous monster of dismal grey stone bricks and four, jaggered watch towers and crimson banners that whipped and slapped at the sky in the frosty winter wind.

He swallowed.

_I can't believe Master wanted to fight the woman who lives here...and actually sent me to check if she was alright when she didn't show up for the duel!_ Pyotr shook his head in exasperation, causing his snowy white hair to flick this way and that. Vanika Conchita was one of - no, was_ the_ strongest woman in all Belzenia, and yet his master had been foolish enough to challenge her to a duel, arrogantly believing she stood no chance all because she was _female_.

"This is Conchita's castle, then?" A smooth, musical voice sounded from behind him, and Pyotr turned in his saddle to glance at Elluka Clockwork, with her silvery blonde hair swaying almost magically in the faint, chilly breeze, and her face completely calm, completely at ease.

Pyotr shivered. Elluka was such a curious woman.

"Yes. Lady Conchita lives here, by herself." Pyotr explained. _I can't imagine why Miss Clockwork would have wanted to see this place. Isn't she happy enough living with Asmodin with my master?_

Elluka blinked in surprise. "By herself? Has she no family?"

"She never married. Her father died when she was young and her mother, driven insane by the loss of her husband, began to abuse her." Pyotr mumbled with an anxious glance at the castle, as though fearing said warlord would suddenly burst into the clearing and run him through for sharing such personal secrets. "Lady Conchita was removed from her care at the age of sixteen."

Elluka was silent; she wasn't even looking at Pyotr anymore. She was glaring up at the oppressive castle, with its scarlet flags and leering towers, a dark sort of emotion boiling in the depths of her pale blue eyes. Pyotr sighed deeply, confused by her behaviour as he always was, and returned to staring gloomily up at the castle -

"Huh?" He narrowed his eyes - one of which was blue, while the other was green - and leaned forward slightly. Elluka's eyes flickered to his hunching form.

"What are you doing?" She questioned.

"I..I think I can see someone, Miss Clockwork." Pyotr pointed towards the castle's lowered draw bridge, and Elluka followed his gaze -

- and then gasped.

The actual person did not shock her; it was just a woman, with short brown hair and devious red eyes, but rather the item she clasped tightly between her hands. It was a wine glass, gleaming golden as it caught the weak rays of sunlight seeping through the heavy layer of pebble-grey cloud cover, and in that wine glass were a small collection of crimson seeds -

It was Gluttony, and that woman was making off with it!

"You there, stop!" Elluka shouted without thinking, smacking the flank of the white mare she rode and darting off at a frantic gallop. Pyotr cried out in shock, and his horse bucked - neighing madly and stomping viciously at the earth - and Pyotr screamed as he was flung unceremoniously to the hard, stony ground.

The woman's head jerked up - and then she yawned, and made a big show of stretching her slender arms, as though Elluka's advance was nothing more then an annoying thumping in the distance, and was nothing she need be concerned about. Elluka's eyes burned with anger, but the woman but smirked, and then she clapped her hands together - and with a mighty roar the draw bridge exploded into a heated shower of flaming object that sailed high, high into the air, and then plummeting back to the earth with a deafening _crash._ The earth trembled with each massive impact, and the draw bridge shattered like broken glass, and fell away into the darkness of the trench which circled Vanika Conchita's castle.

Elluka cursed - uttering something foul beneath her breath - before abruptly leaping from her horse's back, landing light on her two feet, and began tracing a circle in the air. She murmured some nonsense words beneath her breath, and drew a star within the circle, her movements delicate and graceful - and then the explosion ceased, and the draw bridge returned, repaired and glowing dimly with polish.

But the woman, and Gluttony, were both gone.

* * *

><p><strong>EDIT ::: Recently, I learned that Conchita's chef - whom I named Pablo - actually has a name which mothy-sempai gave him. Changed it, though :D<strong>

**O-O Whoa...I just gave myself nightmares xD Conchita is crazy!**

**As promised, a quick update! I'm actually surprised by how easy this was to write! I apologize for any mistakes. I proof read it, but...yeah. I'm sorry about how lazy I got at the end...-_- I do that, sometimes.**

**Rin's name in this story - Reina - actually means 'queen' in Spanish xD And Porfiro means purple.**

**Thanks for all the wonderful views! I appreciate them more then you could imagine.**

***-* Next is TwiRight! Yay! I've been waiting to write this arc~!**

**: CHARACTERS :**

**_Vanika Conchita/Mysterious Woman: _MEIKO  
><strong>

**_Lorencio: _Kagamine Len**

**_Reina: _Kagamine Rin**

**_Joseph Crim: _KAITO  
><strong>

**_Porfiro: _Gakupo Kamui**

**_Pyotr: _Utatane Piko**


	6. Twiright Prank

_~ Evil Kingdoms ~_

:: Superbia [ Pride ]

**TwiRight Prank**

_The night sky was inky black and speckled with stars that twinkled and sparkled mysteriously in the distance as Leonhart slowly made his way through the near deserted hallways of the Lucifenian royal castle, and the beady, glinting eyes of portraits followed him as he moved, and his long shadow flickered ominously across the crimson carpets. There was no sound - save for his own soft, whispering breath, and the gentle **pat-pat-pat** of his booted feet brushing against the floors._

_He reached the Royal Chambers quickly, and gently knocked on the glistening golden doors. There was a moment of deathly silence; and then the muffled sound of feet shuffling across the carpets, and then the alarmingly loud click of the lock being removed - the hollow sound echoed throughout the silent halls like some sort of siren. _

_A stream of light sliced through the darkness, and a familiar face filled Leonhart's vision._

_"Oh, Leon," Queen Anne breathed in relief and opened the door completely and stepped aside, and Leonhart strode into the room._

_"It's good to see you again, Ann. How are you?" He asked, his voice low._

_"I have been better," The queen admitted coolly as she noiselessly closed the door behind him._

_The room in which they stood was expectantly spacious, with rolling silky carpets and impressive windows framed in gold and a large bed with soft, pale yellow sheets pushed into one shadowy corner. On the left side of said bed was a ring of flowers - golden roses and blooming sunflowers and delicate daffodils. A memorial for the recently deceased King of Lucifenia, Arth - killed just before the gruesome war with Belzenia was resolved._

_And on the right side of the bed, there were two babies - twins, each with a single tuff of golden hair, and wrapped in white silk. They were sleeping deeply, and their chubby fingers were intertwined._

_Leonhart's eyes saddened._

_"This is them, then?" He murmured. "Princess Rillianne and Prince Allen."_

_"Yes," Anne whispered back. She hurried to her children's side, and knelt beside the bed, and gently brushed a lock of pale gold from Rillianne's face. The baby princess did not so much as mumble._

_"They are beautiful." Leonhart commented._

_"Thank you, Leon." Anne replied softly. Then she swallowed, and squared her shoulders, and wrapped her arms about Prince Allen's tiny and fragile frame. She lifted him up and out of the bed - but paused when she realized Rillianne's hand was still firmly clinging to Allen's. They wanted to be together, she realized with a jolt, even as they slept - they longed to be beside one another, to live as twins should live. Two sides of the one coin. One soul split between two bodies. Together, always..._

_Tears swelled in Anne's eyes and her breath hitched in her throat, and for one awful moment she thought she was going to burst into tears; but Leonhart placed a consoling hand on her shoulder, and Anne regained her composure. She took a deep, calming breath, and untangled their little fingers._

_Rillianne's hand fell gently against the bed._

_"Please look after him, Leonhart." Anne breathed as she handed Allen over to him, and Leonhart was shocked by how soft and small and **breakable** the boy seemed - like even the faintest of winds could shatter him into a million, glittering pieces scattered across the floor. "And be careful. Once the Council of Elders realizes what I've done...I honestly can't predict what they'll do."_

_"I can't believe they actually wanted to harm this child," Leonhart hissed. "To kill him off simply because they are twins...it's disgusting."  
><em>

_Anne nodded, her expression grim. "T-they talked of drowning him." Her voice shook slightly. "My son, Leon. They wanted to drown my son because he's the younger twin. But that was only one side!" Anne threw her hands up in exasperation and began to pace. "The other wanted to kill Rillianne because she's, well, a girl. They seemed convinced that she couldn't rule because of her gender. You should have seen them argue, Leonhart. They screamed and hollered like school children. None of them **dared** consider that they could rule together. Or to wait until they were older and it was possible to tell who is the better leader. Curse them all!"_

_"Anne..." Leonhart said quietly. "...calm yourself. You will wake the children."  
><em>

_Anne opened her mouth to snap something foul and cruel, but immediately thought better of it and bit her tongue. She took yet another breath, one that filled her up like a balloon, and it gushed out of her as she exhaled._

_"...It's because Arth is dead." She continued coldly, her voice sharp and harsh and icy with hatred. "My dear husband, bless his soul. Because he died in the line of battle, those old fools believe they can do what they wish. If Arth hadn't died and come home, none of this would have happened..."_

_"Anne..."  
><em>

_"It's true, Leonhart. You know it is. He's one of the Three Heroes, after all - he, Lady Clockwork and Miss Gumillia created Lucifenia from the bottom up."  
><em>

_Leonhart was silent._

_Anne sighed, and ran her fingers through her smooth, pale blonde hair - it cascaded down her shoulders in a waterfall of shimmering ringlets - and smiled weakly at her grey-eyed friend, who watched her, frowning darkly, from across the room; baby Allen nuzzled against his chest, sleeping sweetly and deeply and innocently unaware of the danger that churned about him like a heavy, black storm cloud, out for blood._

_"You can tell him. When he gets older." Anne mumbled. "But Rillianne can never know she has a brother. Never. It's far too dangerous."  
><em>

_"I understand."  
><em>

_"Yes...of course you do." Anne round blue eyes were dull with despair. "Now, go, Leonhart. And...a-and never bring my son back."_

_"Yes, milady." Leonhart bowed briefly, and then he swept out of the room, his cape billowing behind him and Allen shivering in the sudden rush of icy air, and the moment is footsteps faded into silence Anne collapsed against the bed and buried her face into the soft sheets and silently sobbed, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks like rivers while Rillianne peacefully slept on, blissfully ignorant of her brother's absence, and a tiny, tiny smile graced her chubby face as she slept and dreamed of playing endlessly with Allen._

000

**_Eight years later_**

"Allen! Come on, hurry up!"

"T-this is a bad idea, milady!" Allen squeaked as Rillianne tugged him along, her hand firmly grasping his and forcing him to stumble after her chosen path. The sand of Twilight Beach was cool and refreshing against his bare toes, and the salty sea breeze caressed his blushed and sweat-coated cheeks, and the sounds of the waves crashing against the shoreline was soothing, but Allen still felt the terror of disobeying Queen Anne's direct orders.

_Stay put,_ she'd said. _Don't go wandering off on your own,_ she'd said. And what they'd do? The second Queen Anne turned her back, Rillianne was off and running, scampering madly down the glistening golden sands with a terrified Allen in tow.

"Don't be silly!" Rillianne squealed, twirling around and beaming brightly at her friend. "This is a wonderful idea! Now we can play on the beach all day."

"B-but Her Majesty told us to stay put!" Allen protested, but Rillianne brushed his arguments aside with a careless flick of her wrist.

"Excuses, excuses! Don't you wanna have fun, Len?" She asked curtly, using his childish nick-name in a successful attempt to soften his reluctance. Then she struck him down with the finishing blow - "With me?"

Allen sighed in defeat. "Of course, milady."

"Then cheer up! And stop calling me milady." Rillianne scolded, and she playfully tapped his nose. "It's Rin to you. And that's an order!"

Allen giggled despite his fears. "Understood, Rin!"

As Rillianne squeezed his hand and once again launched herself into a staggering run, Allen couldn't help but wonder how incredibly lucky he was to be here with the little princess.

Allen was a mere servant boy who assisted the cooks and the maids and the butlers around the castle, and whenever he wasn't working, he was off with his father, Leonhart Abaddonia, learning some new trick with swords and daggers. His father was a man of high standing, being the Captain of the Royal Guard, but even then he was miles below the rank of the Queen - meaning Allen was so far down the social ladder, it was a wonder he was even visible.

And yet here he was, playing with Princess Rillianne Lucifen d'Autriche, the heir to the throne. The next _Queen!_ Paying attention to a insignificant peasant boy like _him._

"Allen~! Don't drift off!" Rillianne prodded Allen's shoulder and he blinked himself back into reality, and flashed her a warm smile. Rillianne grinned in reply and Allen -

"Ah!" Rillianne shrieked in terror as her foot twisted over a gnarled root and the world swirled around her like a whirl pool and her little body smashed against the sand with a deafening _crash_. Pain erupted in her leg and Rillianne immediately burst into tears, screaming and wailing at the sky and Allen wrapped his arms around her shoulders and gently lifted her into a sitting position.

"Ow!" Rillianne sobbed. "Ow! Ow! L-Len, it _hurts!_"

"Hush, Rin, I know." Allen murmured soothingly, stroking her pale gold locks and softly patting her hands. "It's okay, Rillianne. It's okay."

Allen glanced at Rillianne's leg and grimaced as the cold and eerie red glint of blood caught his eye. A painful rip in her skin stretched over he knee, surrounded by sand and small stones and fragments of broken shells, and blood slowly seeped out from the wound and trickled down her leg.

_Wh-what should I do...?_ Allen wracked his brains for something - _anything _- that could help him, and sighed in relief as he remembered one of his lessons with his father. _Apply pressure to the wound_, he'd coolly instructed, _and protect it from the elements._

Allen quickly untied the black bow at his neck and carefully tied it around Rillianne's leg, and the princess whimpered and winced with each minuscule movement of the fabric brushing against her knee. She wasn't used to pain of any sort - she was a princess, after all, living in a child-proofed world of luxury, where every surface was smooth or silky and she was never left in the presence of anything sharp or possibly lethal - like a knife - for more then two seconds.

"Are you okay, Rillianne?" Allen asked, frowning worriedly.

Rillianne sniffed loudly. "I-It hurts."

"It'll be okay." Allen promised. "We'll wait here for my Papa, okay? He'll realize we're gone any minute now and come get us."

"R-really?" Rillianne whispered.

Allen smiled broadly and kissed her forehead. "Really. I promise. Until then, just keep still, okay? Try and rest it. And keep the pressure applied."

"O-okay." Rillianne lightly pressed her milky fingers against the black bow and suppressed her urge to sob and splutter. She glanced up at Allen and smiled a pained and faint smile.

"You're really good at this, Allen." She praised. "You could be a _doctor _someday!"

Allen blushed in embarrassment and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "A-ah...w-well...um..."

"_Thank you_ is what you're supposed to say, Allen," Rillianne informed him, giggling. Allen's blush darkened and he looked away, suddenly feeling stupid.

Allen stared across the beach and glanced at the sky and smiled. It was tinted with twilight, and the fiery oranges and crimson reds and striking yellows sliced through the sky like slashes of a sword, burning and blazing like fires against the thin black line of the horizon. The sea below was moderately calm, and stained a bloody red with the twilight. Allen watched the sea, and his blue eyes widened slightly as the waves began to churn. They increased in power, and slammed violently against the distant, rocky shore line, and lapped loudly against the beach.

Allen swallowed. _Is there a storm coming? No! I hate storms! I'll freak out and let Rillianne down!_

"Allen!" Rillianne squealed suddenly and Allen squeaked with surprise. "Look at the sky, Allen! Isn't it beautiful? _Even _if it played a prank on me. Making me fall over. Bad twilight!"

"Y-yeah." Allen stammered.

Rillianne gazed up at the fiery blanket of twilight, her eyes shinning like stars.

"We can make an orange sky, too, you know." Rillianne said matter-of-factly, and Allen stared at her, confused. "I'm Day, Allen. And you're - "

"Night," Allen interrupted, realizing where she was going. "I'm Night."

Rillianne grinned brightly and nodded. "And together..."

She reached out with her hand, and Allen took it securely in his own.

"...we make a beautiful orange sky." Allen finished.

_**CRASH!**_

Allen and Rillianne both squeaked with surprise as a mighty wave collided with the rocks in the distance, and even from their perch on the beach they could see the massive spray of white foam that exploded into the air upon impact. Allen's gut quivered nauseatingly as he stared at the sea - and it was truly was raging now. Waves the size of castles, it seemed to Allen, lurched out of the water and roared like beasts as they came crashing down into the ocean, sending a shower of foam slapping and licking at the red and orange sky.

The water was all red due to the eerie lighting - it was like staring out at a rocking and lurching cauldron of blood.

But there was no wind - not even the faintest of breezes - and Allen couldn't understand how such impressive waves could be possible without huge, destructive winds to match. I-it was impossible, was it not? For the ocean to simply start bucking and jerking on it's own? I-it wasn't a-actually _alive..._

"A-Allen, what's happening?" Rillianne whimpered in a tiny, tiny voice, and she clung to Allen's hand as though it were her life line.

Allen swallowed and squared his little shoulders. _I have to be strong. For Rillianne._

"I-I don't know," Allen confessed, and his voice - save for the initial stutter - was strong and confidence. The complete opposite of how he felt. "But it's okay, Rillianne," He added as she began to tremble. "It's okay. I'm here. You're not alone."

Rillianne nodded shakily and Allen moved closer, curling his arm around her shaking shoulders and stroking her hair with his free hand - the other remained connected with Rillianne's fingers.

And then -

_**Thump**_

And then the demon appeared.

It materialized simply out of no where - the huge and hulking beast of glossy black scales and burning red eyes the colour of freshly spilt blood. It's great feet crashed against the sands and caused the very earth to shudder with vibrations, and it's long, thick tail flickered violently through the air - the tail ended in an arrow head, glinting and black, that looked sharp enough to slice through diamond. The demon itself was gigantic - it was the size of several grown men standing atop one another, and then some. Talons of a dark grey colour sprouted from it's enormous four-fingered hands and feet, and those joined to the hand curved slightly. Black mists swirled around it's incredible form, and, somehow, not matter how hard Allen stared with his wide eyes, he couldn't focus on it's face - it was a shifting, blurred mass of black mist. All he could see clearly were those red, red eyes.

Allen and Rillianne stared up at the demon with horror-stricken expressions. They both trembled uncontrollably and tears rolled freely down Rillianne's face, while they swelled threateningly in Allen's eyes. Rillianne's nails bit into the flesh of Allen's palm - blood bubbled out beneath them and crept across his hand.

"**Children**," the demon boomed. It's voice was harsh and sharp and chilling, and sent shudders of terror ripping up and down Allen's spine. "**I am hungry. The scent of your blood drew me near. I shall feast...**"

"No!" Rillianne sobbed and she buried her head in Allen's shoulder.

"P-please don't eat us!" Allen squeaked.

The demon's eyes flared with rage.

"**Why should I not?**" It demanded hotly. "**I shall tell you something, boy! I am cursed to be hungry forever. I could eat the entire world still feel as though my belly is empty**." - Allen frowned softly at this. He couldn't help but feel some pity for the poor beast - "**Hunger burns within me. It is torture. And, hear this! It was a mere **_**human **_**who cursed me!**" It took a thunderous step forward and Allen and Rillianne screamed in perfect unison. "**So why, **_**little boy**_**, should I spare you and your sister?**"

"R-Rillianne isn't my sister." Allen corrected without thinking. It was automatic. Many children their age and younger often mistook Allen for Rillianne's imaginary brother. She was an only child, of course, but their uncanny resemblance to one another often led to such problems.

The demon stared at him long and hard before abruptly letting out a terrible, piercing laugh that sounded more like the high-pitch scream of some poor soul in utter agony then actual laughter. Allen whimpered and pressed himself closer to Rillianne.

"**Ha! Strange. **_**I**_** have heard different things.**" The demon chuckled menacingly. "**But enough of that. Back on topic. Why should I spare either one of you, boy?**"

_What should I do? What should I do?_ Allen's heart was racing in his little chest and crashing almost painfully against his ribcage and he could scarcely think, his mind reeling from fright. Fear roared in his veins and sweated ran down his torso and cheeks in winding rivers, and Rillianne, clinging to his arm and trembling violently, wasn't helping matters at all. But he couldn't give up - not yet! _I have to protect Rillianne. I-I have to. I must. She's my best friend..._

"...I'll give you my snack." Allen breathed at last.

"**Your what?**"

"M-my snack." Allen repeated shakily.

"It can't have mine!" Rillianne screeched before neither Allen or the demon could utter a word.

The demon's red eyes narrowed and Rillianne gasped and wriggled even closer to Allen.

It turned back to Allen. "**Your snack? Is that it?**"

"A-and me, then!" Allen cried desperately. "Take me and my snack! But leave Rin alone!"

"L-Len..? No!" Rillianne wailed, but Allen ignored her.

"Please! Don't hurt her. She's my best friend. L-look," Allen groped out his pockets and withdrew a small bar of dark brown chocolate that seemed black in the dense shadow of the demon. His small hand shook visibly as he held it out to the monster, and his voice was strained and tiny. "h-here's my snack. I-it's not much, but you can have it. Then you can eat me. B-but let Rillianne go home."

"Allen!" Rillianne screamed and tugged at his shirt, but again she was ignored.

"P-please." Allen begged. "Please."

The demon, for once in it's immensely long life, was rendered speechless. Never had it seen such a brave and honourable display of loyalty and love - and from a child, no less! He had seen great men cower and weep openly before him, begging pathetically for their life - some even throwing unfortunate and terribly confused strangers or bewildered and betrayed loved ones out before them, insisting that their life be taken instead of their own.

But _this child_...

The demon leaned down and roughly wrenched the chocolate from Allen's hand, and Allen squeaked in alarm and hastily withdrew his hand, shaking from head to toe. The demon parted it's massive jaw and revealed line upon line of yellowed fangs that dripped with saliva and a fat, dark purple tongue speckled with strange and grotesque bumps of some sort and the roof of it's mouth was black as night.

The demon tore off the wrapper and it fluttered soundlessly down onto the sand as the demon threw the chocolate onto it's large tongue - and, instantly, the mighty jaws slapped down with a deafening _**clap**_ and both Allen and Rillianne cried out, startled by the sudden explosion of noise.

The demon stared down at them, eyes smouldering like hot coals.

Allen's heart seemed, to him, to have stopped beating all together. In fact, it seemed his entire body had just down, and all that was left was a dense and icy fear that enveloped him completely in a suffocating mist of terror and despair. _It's going to eat me. It's going to eat me. R-Rillianne -_

The demon reached out with a gnarled hand - fingers twisted and broken horrifically in gut-wrenching positions - and the cold, grey tip of it's curved talon brushed lightly against Allen's forehead. A shudder shot down his spine, and a harsh sob burst through his lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut, silently praying that the pain of being eaten alive would be swift and -

"**As thanks, boy,**" the demon hissed. "**I shall tell you something useful about your ocean.**"

Allen gasped softly as a sweet and soothing voice filled his ears, and sung to him a tale of the ocean and the magical and mysterious wonders it held and still holds. He hung to the voice's every word; and then it trailed away and became faint and finally vanished, and Allen opened his eyes, and stared up at the empty space of air the demon once occupied.

"A-Allen...i-it's gone. A-Allen? Are you okay?" Rillianne's warm fingers brushed Allen's cheek, and they were shaking. Allen gently took her hand in her's and smiled a strained and weak smile; fear still churned viciously in his chest, despite the alluring and warm voice he had heard moments ago.

"I-I'm fine, Rillianne." Allen breathed. _I've got something to tell you, too. Something amazing. But please wait, okay? Until we're older..._

000

Queen Anne, of course, did not believe a word the children said concerning their not-so-friendly demon companion, and both received an ear-lashing so terrible Rillianne stormed from the room wailing like a toddler and Allen was reduced to tears. He stumbled weakly from the room shortly after Rillianne fled with a shocking tantrum, and caught sight of the tall and muscular frame of his father.

"Allen." Leonhart said, smiling warmly, and he reached down and ruffled the boy's golden locks. "Why are you crying, son?"

"Q-Queen Anne...Sh-she was _so_ mad!" Allen whimpered, clinging to his father's trousers and sobbing into the rough fabric.

"Did you apologize?"

"Y-yes. O-of course, Papa."

Leonhart's strong arms wound themselves around Allen's little frame, and effortlessly lifted the boy up off the ground, and seated him on his massive shoulder - like a golden-haired, blue-eyed parrot.

"Then all is well." Leonhart concluded. Allen sniffed and wiped the tears from his eyes.

They walked in silence for a time, the only sound the silky whispering of the new lush and golden carpets as Leonhart's large, leather boots brushed against the soft material. Allen kept his eyes focused on said carpets, unnerved by the paintings which lined the walls and stared him down with their dark, dark eyes and forever disapproving frowns.

"Allen," Leonhart said suddenly.

"Yes, Papa?"

"When we get home...there is something important that I must tell you."

Allen titled his head to one side, puzzled but admittedly curious. "Something Papa must tell me?"

"Yes," Leonhart confirmed darkly, and Allen frowned anxiously. "It is something I have not been able to tell you for many years because of your youth. But now...I believe you are old enough to know. It concerns your precious friend - Princess Rillianne."

000

_**20 years earlier**_

_Elluka Clockwork smirked up at the ancient and wrinkled face of the Eldoh Tree, and his narrow grey eyes were dull with anxiety and his mouth was a thin and firm line and around them a strange and unnatural mist swirled about the clearing in which the great tree grew, circled by a cluster of smaller and faceless trees who whispered softly as the wind blew. _

_At the tree's base lay a young woman with a head of short, emerald green hair and her eyes were elegantly closed and her skin was pale as snow and cold as ice._

_"I do not like this, Elluka." The Eldoh Tree murmured uneasily._

_Elluka's smirk grew, and she ran her slender fingers through her hair - now a rich and vibrant shade of cherry-blossom pink, a gift from the body of Lukana Octa, whom she had possessed in order to obtain the item of Lust. Her eyes, however, still held their brilliant and sharp shade of sky blue, and her usual air of superiority and smugness still clung to her very skin._

_"You promised me, darling. Two request." Elluka reminded him cheerfully. "This is my first request. Using the body of Gumina Glassred, you will give this friendly tree spirit a physical form."_

_"...Very well." The tree grumbled, defeated, and he slowly closed his eyes and Elluka took a few steps back, her cloak whispering and murmuring as it brushed lightly over the green grass. _

_Suddenly, the air began to tingle, and the forest burst into life - birds trilled and bees buzzed and animals cooed and screamed and hooted from beyond the green-tinged darkness - and the curious mist began to churn like storms clouds, and became faster and faster and faster until it whipped through the air like the violent winds of an enraged tornado. _

_The motionless body of Gumina Glassred was lifted delicately off the earth by the furious winds, and, slowly, grimly, her mouth fell open, and the winds instantly swirled inside, as though mercilessly sucked in by some unseen force - rushing down her throat and engulfing her figure and soaring and surging through her torso - and then her eyes snapped open, and they blazed a bright and vicious green._

_Elluka grinned triumphant as her new pet was lowered gently back onto the earth, her naked body glowing faintly with the magic and the power and the new-found life that coursed through her veins. She curled her fingers in and out of a fist and rolled her shoulders and her eyes flickered around the clearing, seeing everything and memorising even the faintest and most insignificant of details - and then her fiery emerald gaze locked with the seductive and alluring blue of Elluka's eyes._

_"Come, Gumillia," Elluka purred. "We have a country to create."_

* * *

><p><strong>OH. MY. GOD. I. AM. SO. SORRY. THIS. TOOK. SO. LONG.<strong>

**I-it wouldn't be written! I-I swear! I tried and tried and tried again to write the stupid thing but...!**

**Well, anyway, it's up, and that's what matters :D I love Allen's and Rillianne's story. Their tale is so complex and interesting - and there's so many secrets! Just recently I learned Allen may not have been Miku's killer! **

**In this chapter, Allen doesn't know he and Rillianne are related. Leonhart will tell him soon enough, though. Also, the bit at the end with Gumillia and Elluka is supposed to show how Gumillia came to exist and why she looks like Gumina Glassred. Also, I learned recently that Elluka used the body of Lukana Octa to get the item for Lust. Sorry if I confused anyone!**

**I've decided, because this story is so long and complex, I'm going to write it novel style - the next chapter will be _Closure of Yellow_, which will tell the story both from Rillianne's POV and Allen's POV. I predict...it shall be long. Like...really long. So be prepared!**

**Thanks for reading! Please review! :D**

**PS- MERRY CHRISTMAS (lol so late) AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR PEOPLEZ!**

**PPS - anyone else notice the EXTREME over use of the word 'terror'? xD**


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